Thanks for reading, all feedback is welcome!
Chapter Seven
" Hey sleepyhead, time to rise and greet the day!"
The cheerful voice cuts through Estels dreams dragging him to reluctant consciousness. He feels the covers suddenly pulled from the bed and grabs at them in a vain attempt to maintain the drowsy comfort he has no desire to loose. Prising open unwilling, sleep filled eyes he spots a dark haired elf leaning over the bed, grinning widely. Instinctively the human quickly rolls his body over and away from the looming form just in time to miss the stream of water which falls from the upturned cup held in the elfs hand.
"Elladan!" he spits out sharply, frowning at the elder of his twin brothers. " That was uncalled for! Mock anger flashes in steely grey eyes as they stare into defiant brown before the glint of amusement takes over and both human and elf dissolve into laughter.
" Aww, did you wet the bed tithen pen, little one ?" Elladan splutters out, causing the laughter to gain momentum before the young man launches himself from the bed, grabs the startled elf around the waist and knocks him to the floor where they end up in a tangled heap, still laughing uproariously.
It is in this state that Elrohir comes upon them, entering the room to discover the cause of the sounds of merriment filtering through the half open door and into the corridor beyond.
" Ah, the children are playing", a mocking, indulgent smile is quickly wiped from his face as the two combatants share a knowing glance then reach out in unison, grabbing an ankle each to take his feet from under him. " Hey!" the exclamation is followed by a loud expulsion of air as the younger twin finds himself unceremoniously dumped onto the floor amidst the chaos of elf, man and bedding that already exists there. The three beings are almost hysterical with mirth now, unable to move or think, wrapped together in a mass of heaving shoulders and squirming limbs, oblivious to all else around them.
As he passes along the corridor towards the young princes room on his way to check on Legolas' progress Lord Elrond can not help but hear the joyful sounds emanating from the chamber next door. He gently pushes on the door and it swings fully open to reveal a sight that makes his heart swell with love and pleasure. No matter their age his 'children' mean more to him than life itself and to see all three of them enjoying a moment of unrestrained happiness brings tears to his eyes.
"I wish you could see this Celebrian, my love," the words are as soft as thoughts. " How Estel turns the twins back into elflings again and brings the joy back into their lives that I once feared was lost forever."
He has never regretted taking in the young human child to raise him as his own and now could not imagine what life would be like without him. Entering the room he stands silently, fondly watching the tangled heap as it resolves itself into three separate forms again. The younger, more sensitive of the twins is the first to notice his fathers presence and scrambles to his feet, hands smoothing at a rumpled tunic, quickly followed by the other two brothers as awareness of the elder filters through their distracted senses.
" It is good to hear your laughter again ionnath nin, my sons," his lips curve upwards in a wry smile and eyes sparkle with hidden mirth. " It has been sorely missed".
"I hope we did not disturb you Ada, " Estel grins sheepishly as he looks up, sweeping a hand through tangled brown locks which have fallen to cover twinkling grey eyes.
" Not at all," Elrond smiles fondly, " I am only surprised that your young friend has slept through the uproar, I would have thought to find him in here, joining in with your frolics by now." A stray frown crosses his brow with this statement and he notices how the others all immediately look towards the wall separating the two rooms as if to see the blonde archer magically walk through from the other side.
" Now you come to mention it, it does seem rather strange he has not shown his face yet", Elladans voice is tinged with an edge of worry. " He has ever been an early riser and has an intense dislike of missing the dawning of a new day".
" Maybe he still requires a little more recovery time" Elrohir reasons back. " The wounds he sustained were severe and he is so accomplished at masking his hurts it has been difficult to truly assess his progress."
There follows a muffled 'whump' and three elven heads turn simultaneously to observe the young human sitting upon the floor with his head and one arm caught inside a tunic, the other arm flailing at the fabric which seems intent on holding him prisoner.
" What are you doing Estel?" Elrond takes a few steps forward and grasps the tunic tightly then pulls it up to free his adopted sons head, nearly separating two rounded ears in the process. " Really, I haven't had to help you get undressed for quite a few years now hen nin, my child."
The twins both dissolve into laughter again at the affronted look on their young brothers face.
" It is like having a room full of young elflings!" the lord raises an eyebrow as he surveys the other occupants of the room. " If I can trust you all not to cause further disturbance, I must go and see how Legolas fares."
As their father exit's the room the brothers share a mischievous look then turn to follow him. It crosses their minds that a good while has passed since they have felt able to pull any pranks on the young prince but now he seems to be recovering well they are of the same mind. Their friend will be easy prey if his senses remain a little dulled from his injuries yet.
.
And still Legolas waits, he feels his body start to tremble slightly as his injuries protest the unaccustomed effort but pushes the feeling away by the strength of will he has forged over the years. He can be very patient when the need arises but he had a good teacher.
A slight shake of the head now accompanies the unwanted memories that come flooding into his mind. A tall, silver haired elf standing behind a nervously excited elfling helping to draw his first real bow, showing him how to stand and sight carefully along the arrow to the target beyond. Encouraging him to keep trying when the arrows flew wide of their mark and not allowing the notorious temper tantrums the little prince was renown for to take the upper hand.
A pair of green eyes shining with pride as the elfling grew taller and the targets moved further away in an attempt to force uncharacteristic errors. A sweat slicked muscular torso moving with increased speed and deadly force in an elegant dance with his own, the clash of elven blades ringing over the hushed crowds drawn to the practice grounds by the awe inspiring spectacle of the two well matched beings.
Strong hands clasping his own, pulling him towards the comforting embrace of resilient arms when the smell of blood and fear threaten to overwhelm all sense of reason during the newly appointed warriors first battle, calming jagged nerves when retching turned to sobs as the realisation of the first kill hit home hard.
All these images flood through the archers mind in the blink of an eye as he stands waiting, hoping against hope that he is wrong about the fletching on those ill fated arrows, but certain in the knowledge that he is not. The overwhelming sense of loss and bone deep sadness that settles over his being like a shroud threaten to break his steely resolve as Legolas hardens his heart to past memories, shutting them out like an iron door prevents entry to a band of marauding orcs.
This elf he has known his whole life, has been more than a teacher, a friend and confidante, a father figure, there when his own was too tied up with affairs of state or too distant to reach. The betrayal cuts deep into Legolas' soul and as his wounded mind seeks for answers it cannot find his anxiety heightened senses ring out a warning that someone is very near.
Eyes and ears strain to perceive the being he feels present, hands tighten their grip, shoulders square and stance steadys as automatic responses to danger, finely honed over the long years take over. The unparalleled warrior inside the elf rises to the surface as it has been allowed to do so many times before, yet a small sense of self is retained. He will not allow the blood lust to consume him, this is no battle, no orcs or spiders are about to descend upon him with deadly intent. There are questions which need to be answered and for that he must retain clarity of thought. He weighs choices in his mind rapidly determining outcomes and effects and comes to a decision.
"LHOSSON!"
The name echoes through the trees, rippling outwards on a tide of need, half scream half plea, the bow is lowered although not unnocked.
" I know you are there, show yourself. Or have you become so craven you will not look me in the eye before ushering me to Mandos halls?"Legolas' voice is stern and cold, betraying no hint of the inner turmoil lashing through his mind as a gale tossing fallen twigs and leaves around the forest.
All sound has ceased, no birdsong fills the air, no skittering of small animals disturbs the undergrowth. All is still and quiet as if the very world itself holds its breath in anticipation of what is to come. The silence is broken by a gentle rustle of leaves, like a trees sigh, then a light thud as a graceful figure leaps from the branches, twists in the air and lands on his feet to stand and face the archer, long ebony handled knife in hand, disgust written on his fair face and despair shining deeply within lost, emerald eyes.
" You would call me coward?" the older elf spits out the words through clenched teeth as if they are being wrenched out of his mouth by an unseen force.
" You who are so craven as to allow an innocent to die in your place then continue on with your life as if nothing has happened. You who holds no regard for the fate of your own kind, but would put an Adan, a human life above all others, even sacrificing one you romped with as an elfling, to enable your whim for playing at being a human instead of attending to your proper duties as our 'Crown Prince'. Roaming middle earth with that human whilst Mirkwood is allowed to fall deeper and deeper into the dark. Even your own father despairs for your heart and questions your loyalty since you met this man and gave up your patrols for easier pastimes".
Legolas has remained still, suspended in disbelief as the verbal tirade washes over him, unable to act or speak out. Mind numbed by the overt hatred emanating from his previous mentor and friend, heartsore and confused, the pain and tiredness of recent injuries suddenly overwhelm him and without thought he falls to his knees as if in suplication, his body no longer his to control. He feels the older elf move closer and raises sorrowful, saphire eyes to meet those filled with animosity gazing down upon him.
"I do not understand." The words come slowly from the young elfs lips " I have done nothing of which I am ashamed. I.. I know not of what you speak." He shakes his head briefly as if to reasert his authority over his strained voice. " I would never allow any life to be forfeit in place of mine".
Confusion is written all over the archers face, making him appear lost and vulnerable, all his years fall away and he is again the youngling looking to his mentor for approbation. His mind is trying to think but it appears that although he searches madly through its nooks and crannies he can unearth no clue as to the death of which the elf before him speaks. Panic begins to rise once more within him, is this another part of the lost memories surrounding his recent injuries and near death? Dear Valar, say it is not so, saes, please say he has not….. The thoughts tail off. He dare not walk that route. Wresting control over his mind once more he pushes the panic away, pinning it down in a corner like a butterfly trapped by a pin, this must not be allowed to take flight again or it will consume all reason.
" How? … Who?…" questions tumble over themselves in their rush to be heard but he cannot find the word to articulate what he knows he must, to find the answers he is unsure he wants to hear but recognises the need for regardless of what may be proven.
"Erlinniel" one name, spoken with all the love in the world resonates through the air, " My daughter".
The green eyes flash with grief and anger as the next words are hissed out through taut lips.
" You killed my beautiful, innocent, daughter".
The ebony handled knife is suddenly brought to life to rest against the pale, smooth skin of the princes neck, bringing forth a thin line of red droplets which stand out sharply in contrast to the fair alabaster . Legolas' eyes widen in surprise and fear as the words penetrate his confused consciousness, echoing around his head and trying to prise the butterfly of panic back to life.
" I cannot ….. I cannot…. remember." He feels the butterfly spread its wings as the pin disappears and gives way to the terrors released. "I can not remember!" As the shout rings round the trees he sees the blade rise above his head and waits for it to fall again. " Saes, Please, I can not remember, help me remember!"
The air moves around his face as the blade falls rapidly down and his fractured mind finally gives way dropping him like a stone into a deep dark pool of endless night and he knows no more.
TBC