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: Mild slash themes. And some fluff.
I would gladly, gladly receive some feedback…
Chapter 11: MAPS AND LETTERS
/*/
What a perfect afternoon, Elrond thought as he lazily put the finished book on the nearby table. As always after an accomplished lecture, sated and satisfied, he stretched lightly in his armchair and with a smirk of playfulness noted that the door to his chamber creaked open. Legolas bowed briefly and came into Elrond's field of vision.
"Here, my Lord," the Elf said with a beautiful smile and put on the table a tray with cooled herbal tea and some rice cookies.
"Oh… thank you, dear elfling," Elrond smiled and reached to pull the blonde onto his lap, "…for bringing me a dessert. I was just hoping for some pleasant surprise."
"Were you, my Lord?" Legolas answered, pretending bashfulness. He nestled himself on Elrond's knees and encircled his neck with both arms. "I am glad, then, to make your wish come true."
Elrond regarded his treasured Elf with endless affection. He was wearing the most precious, plain crème shirt, made from so delicate a fabric that it seemed transparent. It settled on his perfect body as if it was wet.
"I should have you wear this more often," Elrond murmured, nuzzling the crook of Legolas' neck with half-lidded eyes and swirling the fabric between his fingers. "Only in my chambers, of course. None of Imladris can look at you in this sinful garment."
"My Lord!" Legolas laughed happily. "You are becoming possessive."
"I have always been possessive", he answered, leaving a gentle, teasing bite on Legolas' collarbone. "For you are mine and only mine. I will pamper you forever just because you are mine. I take good care of my possessions."
Legolas smiled at this.
"I am content with being in your possession, my Lord." He said.
Elrond nodded in appreciation and turned his attention to the small cakes on the plate before him. He broke one of them in half and bit off a piece for himself, then offered the rest to his lover. Legolas took the sweet from his Lord's hand. Elrond stroked his head with a free hand, petting him favorably while feeding him the cakes.
Later Elrond took a delicate, porcelain cup, sipped on the tea and caught the sight of the blue orbs, following his movements as if enchanted.
"Some tea?" Elrond smirked.
"It is up to you, my Lord." Legolas said lowering his eyes obediently, as if they were speaking of the most precious wine from the Lothorien vineyard. Elrond shook his head, obviously flattered. He took another mouthful of the greenish, cool liquid and gently cupped Legolas' jaw, so that he could lead their lips together and rejoice in a wet kiss.
Legolas purred. Obviously purred, the sound was impossible to misjudge with anything else, and it caused a tremor down Elrond's spine. As Legolas swallowed, his lips were claimed again, but unhurriedly; they had the time. There was no demanding hint in the kiss. It was a lazy, sun-filled afternoon, when all had been said and done. Enlightened with this knowledge, Elrond contemplated it, suckling on the lower lip of his beloved. How simply, calmly happy he felt!
The fair Elf, lounging on Elrond's lap, rested his head in the crook of his protector's neck trustingly and sighed in full content, obviously as blissful as his Lord.
"My dear, sweet elfling… not that this perfection lacks anything…" Elrond murmured, glancing at the perfect beauty he was holding in his arms, "…but if such moments of joy can get any better, we shouldn't waste any time…" Slowly, but determinedly Elrond slid his hand down the slender chest covered in the wonderful shirt downwards, to finger the waistband of his gray leggings.
Legolas gave him a glance in which happiness was mingling with tease and slightly spread his thighs to give Elrond better access. The warm hand slid inside the cloth and fondled gently, producing the first mewl of pleasure.
"Yes, my Lord… yes." Legolas breathed. "My Lord… Lord… Elrond…"
Elrond.
Elrond!
"Elrond! Are you alright?"
Erestor was shaking him roughly, wearing a very worried and endlessly stupid expression on his face. Elrond woke in his own bed, bathed in sweat and plagued by chills wracking his whole body; knowing not what happened, he pushed away Erestor's hands and just breathed deeply for a while.
"Are you awake…?" his friend asked, cautiously keeping his hands well visible.
"I think so…" Elrond answered, glad that he could use his voice. "It was just a dream…"
"I brought you some breakfast, but you were still asleep. You weren't responding when I called to wake you, so I invaded your bedchamber; I couldn't wake you at all. You were like dead." Erestor said slowly. "What was that? You had a vision? A flash of foresight?"
Elrond rubbed his face tiredly.
"I don't know," he confessed in a whisper. "It looked like a dream, but… it might not have been a dream…"
"Maybe you shouldn't get up now, Elrond. You don't look good."
"I'm fine. Could you call Glorfindel, please? Is he awake?" Elrond asked, sitting upright and calming his breathing. Erestor nodded; even if dreading to leave his liege alone, he went off quickly, returning shortly with Glorfindel. The blond seneschal told him to walk out, of course. Erestor obviously hated that kind of behavior; after all, it was him who found Elrond, raised the alarm and so had a full right to hear the whole story. Between the outraged struggles and arguments Elrond sent him only one tired glare - and that finally made him leave.
Glorfindel sat down at the edge of Elrond's bed and drowned his stare in his face.
"A vision?" he asked quietly after some time.
"I'm not sure. It never happened during sleep. But it was sharp and vivid like a vision. I could recognize the shape and the kind of leaves behind the window. I can remember everything. There are no impossible or fantastic elements a dream would contain. Time was not abstract, nor the place or persons." Elrond said, still hiding his face between his palms.
"Alright… now, what have you seen?"
Elrond took a deep breath and resigned, decided to embrace the possible outcome.
"I have seen enough to say that I need to apologize, my friend. It seems that you know me better than I myself do." Glorfindel's eyebrows twitched at that and he was just about to say that the balcony argument is long ago forgotten, but Elrond didn't let him finish. "I have seen Legolas in that… projection. He seemed healthy, happy, free of pain the memories would cause. He was… flirting. Provocative. Bold. Or rather, teasing maybe."
Glorfindel nodded. His face was saying that there is nothing wrong in Legolas becoming bold finally.
"The place was my own chamber. Imladris. That's why I'm not sure it could have been possible. As far I thought that only the journey over the Sea could make him truly normal again. To have him healed while still in Middle-Earth…? I… doubt that…" Elrond muttered. Glorfindel smirked.
"Um, Elrond… in this dream, what were you two doing…?"
Elrond received a sting of anger at this question, but this was Glorfindel, his friend. He deadened it inside and forced himself to answer.
"I think you can imagine what we two were up to. This is exactly the second reason I doubt it was a true vision. Don't play naive, you have stated quite clearly yesterday on the balcony what do you think you saw." He hissed.
"…was I that very wrong?" Glorfindel asked quietly.
Elrond only stared for a while.
"I don't know, I don't… Glorfindel, I am having dreams. I… am fond of him. I like his body. I have seen it only as a healer, and I shouldn't… but I am not immune to his attitude. What worries me the most is how I much too easily accept his submission and find it natural. I think him sweet when he is so helpless. It's like… I want to care for him… but it's tinted with… desire, maybe?" Elrond whispered, and to Glorfindel's ears it sounded like he was afraid of his own words. "It shouldn't be like this, I know… I must keep away from him, for this is not leading to anything good," he sighed finally, feigning determination so well, that anyone would swallow it. Except his oldest friend, that is.
Glorfindel shook his head and glanced skywards. He leaned to his friend and put both hands on his shoulders, searching for his eyes, hidden in the shadow of the long hair, mussed from a long night of sleep.
"Elrond, there's nothing wrong in that. It's alright. It gladdens my heart that you are able to love again, after the history with Celebrian… no, don't you dare cut me off this time! Technically I am older than you, my friend, and you have called me, not Erestor, not anyone else, so you need my consolation and my advice. Therefore you will listen to what I say without interruptions."
Elrond frowned royally, but remained silent. Glorfindel was glad that he maintained the eye-to-eye contact. He continued.
"I repeat, there is nothing wrong in your feelings. Not even with being fond of his submissive attitude. After a strong-willed and overly independent wife, it's natural you long for something else, especially if you are overprotective by nature. But, obviously, Legolas is not ready now. He cannot react normally to the simplest of gestures, and love is never simple." Glorfindel gave his friend a serious glance. "Still, if the dream you have had held even a little resemblance to a vision… you may have hope and be glad, Elrond. That means: when the time comes, you will both have enough strength to trust one another."
"But Glorfindel, I…"
"…you must rein in your temper, yes. But do not keep away from this child. After what he told you yesterday, how he opened up to you, he will take it as the rejection he always feared and it will break him surely. Do not keep away from him, for this will be painful to both of you. And it won't help at all. It will only make the longing stronger."
Softening his look now, Glorfindel shook his head.
"I am really glad that your heart has sparked with love again. I was beginning to worry for you. Maybe Valar knew what they were doing, leading this child here. Maybe it must be so, you saving him, he saving you."
Elrond pondered his words for a while.
"Aren't you going… a bit too far? I don't know, I told you… It may be attraction, but to speak about love…"
"Love starts from attraction, did you know?" Glorfindel laughed. "And don't blame yourself for having dreams, whatever the nature. When one lives so long as we do and still has so little time to fully explore the… oh well," he shook his head, smiled to memories and rose from the bed. Elrond raised an eyebrow at this obvious change of topic. "Now I shall do my best to give a bird to the scared-to-death Erestor eavesdropping under your door. Should I tell him something concrete?"
"Awww," Elrond complained while falling back on the bed. He put a forearm across his eyes and muttered something under his breath with a displeased expression. "Tell him I had a vision of high importance to the fate of all Middle-Earth."
"But sure you had!" Glorfindel snorted with laughter and walked out before Elrond managed to treat him with some kind of acridity.
/*/
In the meantime, a few doors further, someone was spending his morning in a completely different fashion.
Lying still in the miraculously warm and soft bed under a fluffy blanket had many advantages, Legolas thought stretching lazily. It was Orbelain (1). A free day. What he was supposed to do with a free day, Legolas still did not know, but he was being given one every week either way. Erestor explained that he was supposed to rest, gather some strength for the following work, do something just for himself, have some fun. Legolas tried to imagine what that fun could be, but he couldn't come up with anything he could do without overstepping his place as a servant.
Each Orbelain morning, the day appeared strange with no duties or chores and it had this dreadful sting of uneasiness Legolas hated. He didn't know what to do with the upcoming day and it filled him with stress, as if he was doing something improper to his own status. For it was another thing which was not normal to a slave.
However, soon he learnt that he liked to sleep more. Laziness at the every beginning of his free day was a totally new feeling, as he discovered. Sleeping in a wonderful bed two hours longer than usual was a blessing. Legolas kicked the blanket in a way which allowed him to cover his right leg when turning on the side and nestled deeper into the softness.
Sleep couldn't come on a mere whim once he had woken, but Legolas was unwilling to leave the bed just yet. He was still warm and drowsy and he knew that sooner or later the blissful oblivion would take him, so he busied himself with some pleasant thoughts about yesterday afternoon and tried to extinguish the sting of worry about his plans for today. I can spend some time here… then I will go eat something, Belithravien would be angry if I skipped the meal… and then… what to do then?... He mused. Maybe I could… No, probably I couldn't…
Rivendell was a city of novelty. Each turn of his head gave him more wonders to look at. He still hadn't managed to go through all these miracles and accept them as they were shown to his eyes. Since he had woken he kept returning in his thoughts to that glorious afternoon in the lower valley.
That day was a stolen one, he thought. I was given a chance to see a few things and enjoy the company of another, but that's all. Now I have these two hours of sleep, later… later I shall either find something to help with or come back here, where is safe… I shouldn't walk around without any purpose.
Calmed with this bittersweet conclusion the fair Elf closed his eyes once more, awaiting some sleep.
But suddenly there was a knock at the door. The sound was so foreign and so unexpected that for a brief moment Legolas didn't know how to react. Finally, sitting up and gathering a blanket around himself, he hesitantly called to enter.
In the narrow gap of the opened door appeared Verién, dressed and washed, ready to face another day. She smiled at his state of sleepiness and opened the door more, leaning her body weight on the solid door handle and the opposite doorframe.
"Do you want to sleep some more before I take you with me?" she asked.
"Take me where…?" he asked automatically through his astonishment.
"Somewhere out. You have a free day today, don't you? You don't plan to sit the whole day here, I think. The weather is beautiful."
"You would spend time with me? You have… nothing else to do?" he asked, still too surprised to form it in a more polite sentence.
"Sure I would spend time with you. I have no plans actually, so I thought I might as well show you a few more of Imladris' places or we could ride somewhere."
"I cannot." He said quickly. "I'm not allowed."
"Uncle has nothing against it, I just asked him about that." She said. It was a lie of course, but he did not need to know.
"I… well, I think… that, maybe…" Legolas' eyes darted to the sides as if he was looking for a way out. Verién backed off.
"Alright, no far escapades then in that case. But… well, I just thought you might want to take a walk with me, for example. What say you?"
Legolas calmed down in a second, regained control of his breathing and nodded, quite happily. Verién told him she would wait in the kitchens and left him to wash and dress, disappearing behind the door which closed soundlessly, leaving Legolas in security of his own room for a while.
Through the stupefied haze he was in, the first hints of joy awoke somewhere low in his stomach. That girl he met only yesterday came to him out of her own free will and asked for his presence. Did that mean she liked him? She seemed nice and sincere enough, so maybe, just maybe, she wanted to befriend him?
Reassured by that thought beyond any point of common sense Legolas jumped out of the bed and quickly shed his sleeping robe. He decided that he must ask for her reasons; he must talk a little and get a confirmation – because if he found a new friend, it would be great, great news, for the first time since he established a lasting friendship with Moreth.
The kitchens were a little less lively today, for many Elves spent their free days at homes or still slept like Legolas would, had it not been for his morning encounter. He found Verién nibbling slowly at her plate of food, with a similar breakfast bowl for him on the table. She involved him in a merry talk immediately, and he was grateful, for he could not think of a single topic to talk about; he was just too nervous. Glad, happy, hopeful – but also nervous. If she wanted to try him as a new friend, he should appear from his best side. Only he was not entirely sure what his best side was.
Sometime later Belithravien left them to check something in the larder, and Verién chose that moment to look at Legolas' plate, not smaller than hers. She noticed that the Elf was eating quickly and with no regard for the offered tea.
"Legolas, you really don't need to eat everything to show you are good and willing to obey… it will finally end in a serious illness should you dig in like that and then throw up behind the barn." She said in a hushed voice.
Legolas dropped the piece of bread he was holding, going pale.
"You saw me…?" he asked weakly.
"No, I can recognize what you are doing," she said, pointing his food. "I was doing this myself a few years ago, but from different reasons than you."
Legolas was silent a full minute.
"Why, then?" he dared to ask, still frozen in one position.
"I wanted to get thinner." She smirked, lifting her tea cup.
"But you are quite thin."
"I thought otherwise. But thank you," she smiled.
"And… did you succeed?" Legolas slowly relaxed, seeing that she is not making any violent gestures nor going hysterical about what she saw.
"Well, yes… though I couldn't lift a sword, that weak I was. I got very ill by that time. But, thanks to friends, I am the way I am now." She smiled and pointed the tea. "Drink some. Slowly. That will help with the nauseous feeling, trust me."
Legolas sighed sadly and looked at his half-empty plate. He did eat too quickly and felt full enough not to eat anything else.
"You are… not angry?" he asked, suddenly feeling guilty.
"No."
"You… will you tell Master?"
"No."
"I didn't want to disappoint Belithravien… and Master ordered me to eat… and she kept giving me so much… and Neremiel too. I just… didn't want them to be angry or… say anything… That's why I…"
"It's fine." She said. "Only you cannot go on like this, for you will fall ill. You are getting thinner and thinner. Either someone will notice or after a few more weeks you won't find enough strength to stand up. Besides, Elrond would be really, really angry. Not at you. At her." She pointed the small doors Belithravien disappeared behind. "Elrond knows you are incapable of eating much after the enforced fast in Mirkwood, so he won't see it as your fault. Belithravien was supposed to watch over you and mind that you are gaining some weight. It would be just better to tell the truth and have her disappointed once or twice than make a real problem."
Legolas swallowed nervously. He pressed a hand to his flat stomach feeling a sudden wave of nausea at the mere thought that he could actually do that to the good-hearted woman.
"I… didn't know… I'm sorry…" he whispered.
"But Legolas, nothing happened, right?" Verién winked at him. "I won't say a word, you will start to eat normally. I see no problem."
Legolas nodded slowly, but seeing her smile he believed in her honesty. It was almost like the conspiracy in Mirkwood. He was able to understand that. He found an old way of communicating.
"Thanks for the warning." He said shyly.
"Be my guest. Friends should help each other."
He stared at her for a while.
"Friends?" he asked cautiously.
"Friends," she said and held out her hand, which he shook without serious hesitation.
/*/
That first morning was only the beginning to the strangest and happiest time Legolas had ever spent with a friend thus far. Mirkwood friendships were different from what he was experiencing now. They were much about help in survival, less about security, warmth, fun or trust. Here Legolas didn't have to worry whether he would live until tomorrow or not. As a result he found himself looking for something else in friendship; a craving for some attention and understanding, the atmosphere which allowed him to put his guard down, some security. He enjoyed the fact that Verién was doing all the talking when they met someone on the corridor or the courtyard. He was unwilling to overly socialize and having her close meant he didn't have to talk and be polite, he could only listen, observe and nod from time to time.
Legolas was abashed and unwilling to go anywhere out of the palace. The last trip to the market was a vivid memory, but it left him slightly overwhelmed. He much preferred the security of the Last Homely House. Verién was content with just that; she showed him the whole building and he soon found that he didn't know even a tiny percent of it, even if the palace in itself was not as big as Mirkwood fortress. Verién seemed to know every story about every piece of furniture standing near the wall. As they were walking through the hall, she indulged him with a tale of the big, old anniversary clock, in the kitchens she taught him names of the famous porcelain sets hidden for formal occasions in the dark, wooden cabinet in the corner. The Hall of Fire held many surprises - sculptures and paintings, especially. Each of them had its own tale. Every portrait was or once had been created off of a living individual. Each candelabrum held ages of faithful service.
It soon showed that Legolas had absolutely no idea about history whatsoever. He knew only briefly dark stories about the Dark Lord and huge battles against evil, but he spoke about them with fear, certain that he is breaking a taboo. His belief in the Valar was, somehow, off balance. It was of little surprise given that he came through an ordeal severe enough to sap any belief in the merciful Gods he might have had. Being asked about it, he was quickly losing his composure and his mood was becoming cloudy, so Verién refrained from that. Once she distracted him by showing him a huge map of Middle-Earth.
"Look," she sighed, putting a large scroll of paper on a polished surface of the round table in the Library. Legolas hurriedly turned his attention away from the mountains of books and with a sacred fear beheld the map.
"This is Middle-Earth. The world as we know it. It's damn difficult to make a map, because the length of the road from Rivendell to Lothorien, for example, must fit the real length of the journey there. That's why people invented the scale. It's over here, look: on this map each length like this," she showed him an inch measure, "matches hundred miles in reality. Do you understand?"
"More or less," he answered, leaning to take a closer look.
"Mirkwood is that black stain over there. All of this is a forest."
"Is it that big?"
"Aye. The palace of Lathronios is over here. You had been traveling this way…" she kept explaining.
Legolas listened. He didn't remember the whole road. Truth be told, he remembered only very unpleasant feelings of ever existent pain, few pictures, changing of the scenery and the brown, bent neck of the horse he was riding on. He had no idea they were crossing places which had names and were painted on maps.
Not knowing how to read, he had difficulties with remembering all the places and names. Verién was explaining softly and slowly, repeating the major parts over and over again. He heard about the biggest lands, news from there were coming to Mirkwood through the messengers quite regularly, and Moreth had also told him a little, but Legolas could never match the exact names to the correct places on the map. Verién kept telling him stories about each land she was introducing and he drank every her word greedily, trying to remember as much as he could. His mind was curious about this new knowledge. Like every young Elf, Legolas learnt quickly, even if it was awkward at first.
"Lothlórien…" he whispered, touching the tiny, painted trees with his finger. "I heard that a powerful witch is living there."
"Lady Galadriel?" Verién smiled. "Old, wise and powerful she is, but I wouldn't call her a witch."
Legolas frowned. "But all these stories about people losing their minds in the forest of Lórien after they encountered the White Witch… I have heard it so many times."
"But you should take under consideration who was spreading these rumors." She glanced at him seriously.
"Well… the royalty," Legolas said with a hint of doubt. "And the warriors who returned from the trips."
"Any envoys? Riders? Messengers? Why not from people who really were there?"
Legolas didn't answer for a long time, deep in thought. The slaves never spoken to the envoys. Even if they tended to their accommodation they were not allowed to speak in their presence. Riders and messengers sometimes came to the lower parts of the castle, sometimes they met slaves and even talked with them briefly, but Legolas himself had never had any chance to do that apart from a few short, pleasant greetings with Farlineor, the messenger who had always been kind. But he had never spoken about the faraway lands, either.
But Legolas remembered one strange transport of slaves brought to the fortress. Usually the new ones were put into a southern part of the dungeons for the start and after a few days they were introduced to the normal working schedule. But that one time it was said that very dangerous people were brought - fifteen grown males said to be previous prisoners and escapees caught when trying to cross Mirkwood's territory. Not many dared to acquaint closer with them. They were speaking strange things after they were included in the work, telling stories about tyranny in Mirkwood, evilness of the whole life in the castle and the judgment from the Valar. They wanted to start a rebellion, seemingly. Legolas never managed to listen better to what they were saying, for the whole fifteen disappeared with no trace. One evening the guards just led them out of the common area and never brought back.
Legolas glanced at Verién uncertainly.
"You want to say that we weren't told the truth." He spoke finally, and the girl nodded. "And you will move on to tell me that we weren't told the truth about Rivendell, either."
Verién didn't say a word, only sighed sadly in silence.
Legolas rose from the table and wandered around the room slowly, unhurriedly. His eyes were sliding over the leather bound books, heavy shelves reaching well under the ceiling, slender ladders attached to the structure, allowing one to reach to the highest congeries. He moved further alongside the wall and delicately followed the shape of the carved frame of the huge painting on the opposite side.
It was a grand painting of the Battle of Last Alliance. The top of it was almost hidden in the dark. In the sleepy, bluish light seeping from the windows the artwork was a dazzling view, with enormous care taken for every detail. Each Elf had his own, different, realistic face. The armours seemed to shine with a glow of polished metal, even if it was only paint. Embroidered banners were frozen under the assault of a strong wind. Dry and red earth under the fighter's feet was spreading far into a dreadful, ugly panorama of the Dark Land.
Amongst the awful and terrifying creatures of Sauron, amongst armor-clad Elven warriors and a crowd of strongly built, dangerous Men, several persons held the attention and love of the painter. Whole scenes were created around them. There were powerful Gil-galad and Elendil in the very center, slaying orcs with mighty swings of their weapons, surrounded by his folk remaining under the shadow of the royal banners. There was a dark, shapeless cloud behind the army of foul creatures, giving out orders and reaching with a long, gloved hand in a gesture of genuine fury. Legolas turned his eyes away.
There was another person, high and proud, with a determined face, focused on his opponent. Unbelievably beautiful in his Elven glory, his long black hair waving behind him, matted and dirty with his enemy's blood. A sword in his hand shone dimly, deadly, and it was ready to strike; and yet there was no yell of triumph on the Elf's face, only certainty, hope and justice.
"What is this scene?" Legolas whispered, unable to take his eyes off the figure.
"The Battle of Last Alliance. The last army of Men and Elves against the threat of Mordor in the field of Dagorlad. It was the battle which changed the fate of Middle-Earth." Verién answered.
Legolas stared for a long while again in complete silence. Something important was being born in his head. His hand reached and shyly touched the irregular surface of the painting, soft fingertips rested on the warrior's chest.
"He is…" he started.
"Uncle Elrond, yes."
Legolas stared again. His brow furrowed and he tensed as if he was fighting with an invisible current, dragging him away from this scene and forcing to stop the new thoughts it was causing. Stop staring, stop reminiscing, don't think! He took a step forward, as if trying to fight with this impalpable blockade he encountered. His hand resting on Elrond's painted chest was trembling.
"Legolas…?" Verién whispered, beginning to worry. He did not move, still rigid as if glued to the floor.
"They… did lie to me. They lied to us. We were all deceived." He said finally. A tear escaped from his eye, but he did nothing to wipe it away. "They lied… about so many things… the past, history… people… realms… they never said that apart from Mirkwood there were no slaves…! They even lied about this," he sobbed and his hand fell down defenselessly.
He was trembling visibly, fighting the urge to cry aloud. Soon he raised his head, having regained control; he breathed deeply once, twice, finally relaxed.
"And then… you start to wonder what else they said was a lie." He finished wearily.
Verién rose from her seat and came over to him. Tentatively, for she knew not how was he going to react, she embraced him from his side, so that he could still look at the painting. He leaned into her embrace, sniffing loudly.
"He is so beautiful," he said suddenly.
"Elrond?" Verién asked, glancing up at him.
"Yes…" he sighed, wiping the wet eyes with a back of his hand. Verién smiled.
"You find him handsome?"
"Well…" he wondered at that. "Maybe… I don't know if Master is handsome… this is something else, Master is just… beautiful." He hesitated. "Lord Glorfindel is beautiful too, but… a bit differently…"
The girl didn't make a comment on that, but she smiled to herself, looking at Legolas' dreamy expression.
"Yes. You are right. They are both beautiful."
Legolas sniffed for the last time and freed himself from her arms. He rubbed his face few times, a strange mixture of feelings appearing on his features; a bit of shame, a bit of sadness, a bit of longing, and some tiredness. He glanced at the map spread on the table and then at Verién, as if he tried to say something and didn't know how to form it in words with respect and politeness.
"Tired, right?" she came to his aid. He nodded.
"I… I really like being with you." he said awkwardly, but sincerely. "I enjoy it tremendously. Only… I am…"
"…tired and a bit sad, I dare say. You want to be alone now. It is all right. Get some rest, Legolas. I will be in the kitchens should you need me or to fight against boredom. Hm?"
He smiled and nodded with pure thankfulness. For a second they stood uncertainly - wondering whether the words were the last thing they should do at a parting or maybe there should be something else – but then Verién leaned to him once again and embraced him quickly, patting his back. Legolas didn't move away and made no move to reject her. He would have lacked in courage to initiate this, maybe, but he was glad to oblige.
/*/
He did actually spend some time in his own room, but could not rest and could not endure sitting in one place longer than a few minutes.
He wanted to see his Master. It was his presence he craved now. Oh come on, how greedy you are becoming! He scolded himself mentally. How can you be dissatisfied with another beautiful day spent with your brand new friend! But his heart could not be talked into submission with only that. And even if he felt awful, even if he knew he was overstepping his place, even if he expected punishment, he walked out of his shelter and ran to his Master's door.
He knocked silently.
It was dinnertime, so Elrond could be downstairs in the Hall of Fire having some nourishment with the other Elves. The lasting silence on the other side of the door seemed to prove that theory. Oh well, Legolas sighed sadly caressing the dark wood with his fingertips. All his excitement evaporated.
Returning to his room was not a very pleasant idea. Something there forced him to walk away right now and the empty corridor appeared strangely more welcoming than the luxurious chamber. There was no one here and the door couldn't possibly be dissatisfied with bearing his weight, so he slid down to sit on the floor and let his head support itself on the carved wood.
What he didn't expect was the sudden move of the handle and the gentle swing of the door, leaving him out of balance. Before he managed to catch the door frame for support he was lying on the cold floor, with a slightly amused face of his Master hovering above. Utterly terrified, Legolas scrambled on his knees.
"Waiting for someone?" Elrond smiled.
"Yes… Master, I am sorry for any disrespect…"
"Don't." Elrond waved a hand to dismiss the apology. "Stand up, little leaf. What has happened? You seem a bit miserable to me."
Elrond ushered his charge into the royal chambers and closed the heavy door behind them. Legolas' eyes observed the floor, so the Lord tipped his chin up with two fingers and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"What is the matter, Legolas?"
"No… nothing, Master," the Elf answered meekly, "I just wanted to… be with you a little," he stole a glance at Elrond to check whether he angered him or not.
Elrond smiled warmly, very pleased, but trying to keep this in himself. "Of course, little leaf," he murmured favorably and narrowed himself down to a long stroke down Legolas' nape, even if he truly wanted to hug the child close right now. "Tell me what have you been doing today."
"I was in the Library," Legolas answered. "With Verién, she led me and she said it was alright," he added, afraid that he abused some kind of unwritten law by his presence in the saint place full of books and maps.
"Why would it not be right?" Elrond bridled. "The house is open to you. You may come and go as you please, visit every room, use every amenity. You are an inhabitant of this place with rights no smaller than anyone else."
Legolas swallowed and nodded after a while, a bit more certain. "Y-yes, Master. Well… She showed me the map. A huge map with every land drawn on it. And I know now where Mirkwood is, and where Rivendell. I know the road I have been traveling."
"I see." Elrond smiled. He came to the table where the leftovers from his dinner stood and poured himself some tea. "You have found the time to eat something, I believe?" he tossed him a strict glance. "Even after some time you are horribly thin. I am beginning to worry."
"No, Master, I will be gaining weight now, I promise," Legolas said fervently. He would die of shame if Elrond found out what he had been doing.
"You promise?" the Lord laughed. "How come you can make such a promise? You have no control over this, little one."
"I just… I know, Master, that I will be better from now on."
Elrond raised his fine brow. He suspected someone else took care of this matter, since Legolas was unwilling to raise it up now and promised to behave better, which was practically equivalent to admitting his fault. It was probably unintentional.
"I will trust you, then. Have you eaten?"
Legolas paled and shook his head no, ashamed. Elrond sighed, sounding a bit displeased to Legolas' ears, and glanced inside the porcelain vase he had on the table. Enough of the thick, aromatic soup was there to feed the young guest.
While eating, Legolas followed every move of his Master as he moved around the room about the various flasks and bottles, arranging them on the shelves of the black wooden desk. His attention was also drawn to the big pile of mushrooms of various kinds drying in the sun on one of the window sills. Some of them were delicate, thin like young leaves, in pale colors of red and shades of pink. There were also thick, fleshy ones, with big, frilly endings, deep brown or even black, giving out a musky aroma. Legolas had never seen mushrooms like that and so he wondered if they had a healing suitability.
Having consumed the soup, Legolas waited patiently until Elrond paid attention to him again. His earlier observation of becoming greedy of that came to him with double force, but he could not help it. Hopefully for his affection-craving mind Elrond turned to him as soon as he stopped hearing the silent clinking of the spoon touching the plate and came closer by. With a fond smile he took a white cloth from the tray and delicately wiped the corner of Legolas' mouth, causing the youth to blush slightly.
"You look better now than when you came here with whole miserable face," Elrond joked. "Why have you been so sad?"
Legolas bent his head.
"I don't know." He said. "We have been just looking at the map. And the painting."
"What painting?"
"Of the battle."
"Ah, that one… you haven't heard about the Battle of The Last Alliance before?"
"I heard," Legolas mumbled, "only a slightly different version. And all the world… it's so huge… the map was so big…"
Elrond bent over his Elf and cupped his cheek.
"Yes, the world is big. But it needs to be so, so that every creature has its place. Just like you have found your place here." He said. "As for the maps and books… It's good that you have seen some. I was thinking about it and it would be good for you to learn how to read and write. Basically, your education has been utterly ignored. We should make up for that."
"I… I would learn… things?" Legolas asked uncertainly. "But I have learnt a lot. I know how to help in the kitchens, how to do fieldwork, how to clean and tidy, I was shown how to make things also; from the wood, I mean, how to build," he said quickly.
"Yes, that you know. But from the books you would learn much more. Would you like to be able to read?" Elrond asked.
"To read…" on Legolas' face appeared an absent expression, as if he reached forward with his thoughts into the future he imagined. "I would… only…" through his face suddenly flitted a shadow of worry. It was unheard of that a slave was allowed to read. Books were always items of luxury, of knowledge, tools hidden and forbidden to them by law.
"Only?"
Legolas glanced at his Master's kind face. He observed him with kindness and no shadow of annoyance or malice. It was no trap.
"I would like to learn how to read," Legolas answered, straightening on the chair. Elrond grinned.
"Then I shall teach you! And since we have some time now, and no plans, I may actually show you something." He laughed and Legolas caught his hand quickly to kiss it in a gesture of pure thankfulness. Once again Elrond shook his head at the submissive posture, but did not comment at that.
He led his young student to his own, private library. Here he kept books especially dear to his heart or the most useful ones when it came to healing or medical issues. Elrond seated Legolas at the huge table, covered with books and papers, standing in the middle of the high chamber. While the Lord busied himself with lighting some more candles for better light, Legolas took a closer look around the room. Leaf-shadowed light was coming through the stained-glass window. The walls were thoroughly covered with wide shelves, and there thousands of books were placed, without even one empty place. Legolas was staring at the mountains of books with amazement. He couldn't imagine that one could have read them all. Elrond caught the look.
"You are wondering if I have read them all, aren't you?" he asked with a smile. Legolas nodded shyly. "Yes, I have. You will read them too."
"When, my Lord?" Legolas laughed quietly.
"Oh, you have all eternity for it." Elrond chuckled and sat near the Elf at the table. "Now tell me, have you ever had a quill in your hand?"
"No, my Lord, never."
"So firstly… this is your quill, and this is your ink. Take it, please" Elrond said, handing him the white quill.
Legolas took in slightly trembling fingers this new gift, whispering his thanks. It fit in his hand perfectly.
"So light…" he whispered. Elrond smiled and moved closer to Legolas.
"Now look. To write, you have to dip a tip of your quill in the ink. Not so deep, not so deep…" Elrond cupped Legolas' hand in his and guided him. "And now be careful not to put too much pressure on it, otherwise the tip will break. Now you write" Elrond led the fair hand tentatively on the parchment. It did not resemble any lettering, only a waving trail, but Legolas sighed in awe. Elrond dipped the quill again.
"This time we will write something… My…name…is…Legolas" he was saying loudly as the letters were appearing. Legolas gasped.
"This is how my name looks like?" he asked.
"Yes" Elrond laughed. "I will show you how others' names look like, and you will be able to write down all possible words on your own. I will teach you."
Legolas' eyes were as beautiful as never before. He looked at Elrond with a smile and a delicate blush of excitement covering his cheeks. Those eyes were clear, wide open, smiling, glowing; thankful.
"It is possible to write because of the alphabet. These…" Elrond opened a book with a big table. "…are all letters of the alphabet (2). They are the smallest part of any language. In proper arrangement they are creating words. To build my name, you will need six letters. 'E', it is this one" and he showed Legolas the letter. "then 'l', 'r', 'o', 'n' and finally 'd'. Now let me introduce to you all the letters and their names. You will need to remember them all, but it's not so difficult. You will try to copy each letter, when I tell you its name, agree? For example…"
/*/
They had spent few long hours in the library. When Glorfindel came to talk with his liege, he noticed the two buried in discussion and work and he just had no heart to interrupt them. Legolas tried and tried, obviously, for the parchment of paper lying before him was covered in shapeless letters and stained with smeared ink. Elrond's eyes were glowing nevertheless, when he explained again how to hold the quill properly. Legolas complained silently that his letters would never resemble the slender, beautiful marks in the primer before him. Elrond actually laughed and patted the blond head with compassion.
"Of course they will," he said. "The beginning is always the hardest. And I have kept you working long enough by now, the next lesson will be shorter. You must be tired, little leaf."
"I… feel strange, Master. I have never worked… with my head."
Elrond smiled at such a metaphor. He collected some more parchments, the primer, the quill and the ink and moved them over to Legolas, who was still eyeing his pitiful results with a disappointed and self-angry expression.
"These you will take with you. When you have some free time, try to practice and give your letters the shape more similar to this in the book. You shall come tomorrow at six o'clock, alright? For an hour, I think. This will be enough for a start." Elrond caressed Legolas' head again. "As for your first time, you really did well, trust me."
Legolas smiled sadly and once again compared the letters in the book with his letters.
"Don't be so strict for yourself." Elrond whispered. "Now, up. With little luck you will find Verién downstairs and you may take a walk in the gardens. Some air and movement would do you good now."
Legolas obediently rose and gathered mentioned things in his arms. Elrond smiled at the sight, recalling a picture of his sons, when he was teaching them to read so many years ago. They looked like Legolas, with books beneath their armpits, with quills and papers, stained with ink on their hands, cheeks and hair. Only they were children, while Legolas was a man already.
"Master?" Legolas said.
"Yes?" Elrond focused. Present while is always better than memories, and he would replace memories with the sight of his children within minutes.
"I want to thank you, Master. Thank you so much for teaching me" Legolas said.
"Thank you for teaching me as well," Elrond whispered more to himself, nodding slowly. He caught the sight of Glorfindel waiting for him and quickly put the book he was holding away. "Now go, Legolas. We will see each other at the supper."
Legolas noticed Glorfindel as well, greeted him courteously, pressing his new gifts to his chest. Then he sent his Lord one more thankful smile, bowed low and quickly went out.
/*/
"From Mirkwood, you say?" Elrohir asked, staring at the beautiful, red and orange sunset before him. Next to him his brother folded a thin blade of grass in his fingers, deep in thought. The white stone stairs the three were sitting upon was lingered by a warm, sparkling light of the last rays of the waning sun.
"Poor creature. He is a little brainwashed, you know." Verién stretched her legs in front of her, sighing. Her thoughts wandered again to the small, pale face wearing the look of hesitance most of the time.
"One could suppose as much."
Elladan and Elrohir have just returned from the horse riding trip. They had never expected to see Verién, for she was unpredictable with all her comes and goes. Greeting her like a sister, they shared much laughter during the happy reunion. Now the girl told them about the newest Imladris citizen.
"You know what, I have been thinking…" Elladan started.
"Oh no." Elrohir muttered.
"… tomorrow we are going to the archery grounds with 'Ro," Elladan said as if he didn't hear his brother at all. "Maybe you could take him with you and meet us. He seemingly needs some friends." He suggested to Verién.
"He does. Thank you, guys. Only… behave around him. It is quite a delicate issue."
"We will, mommy."
"He will find a thread of understanding quicker with us than with you. We are boys, and boys keep together."
"Keep together, huh?..." She smiled. "Anyway, I'm glad you're back. I so wanted to see you."
"We too." Elrohir sighed, lazily watching the sun sink behind the line of the forest and the warm glow slowly wither. "Looks like we are needed here. Ada is behaving strangely. Erestor is angry at Glorfindel. We have a brainwashed Elf to save. It's gonna be a busy summer."
"Absolutely."
A few more minutes and the red hot globe of life-giving sun disappeared from their field of vision and died behind the horizon.
Saturday. Or Sunday, for Elves had only six days per week.
(2) I used the word 'alphabet' and the letters we use, for it was simpler to write it this way. I am no expert when it comes to using Sindarin, even quoting it, not to mention teaching it. I shall leave this to the more skilled writers.