It took a long while for the child to calm down. Elrond continued to rock her in his arms and whisper a litany of soothing Elvish to her. Alassë clung to him like a limpet, her tears wetting the silky dark locks which had frightened her so badly before. Elrond signalled silently to the twins and Mithrandir – she had not met any of them yet, and he knew that the more unfamiliar faces there were, the more distressed she would become. They nodded, and quietly took their leave.
"There, now. Ssssh," crooned Elrond, sitting down on the bed with the child on his lap and stroking her hair. "It's alright. It was only a dream, tithen pen. Only a dream. You are safe here."
"No…I…can't…he…he…find me…" The elfling was crying so hard that she could not even speak. The few words she could manage came out in blurted staccato bursts.
"Little one, look at me," Elrond instructed gently, cupping her chin, and he waited until the huge green, tear-bedimmed eyes were looking into his before continuing slowly and quietly. "I promise you, Alassë, you are safe here. Whoever it was who hurt you so badly, they will never be allowed to set foot in Imladris. Please trust me. I promise I will look after you."
Alassë blinked at Elrond, and then nodded tentatively; tears running down her face. Elrond tucked her hair behind her ear and dried the tears from her pallid little cheeks. Alassë sniffled, and then cuddled closer. So the dark haired elf was this nice all the time.
"Will you tell us who it was who gave you those bruises, little one?" asked Thranduil, coming to sit on the bed next to Elrond.
"He did." the child replied tearfully, her voice shaking. Elrond held her tighter, ever careful of the lattice of horrific wounds on her back.
"Who is he?" pressed Celeborn gently. "What is his name?"
"I had to call him master. Can't remember his name. I'm sorry!" she sobbed, screwing her face up in an attempt to remember.
"That's all right," Thranduil soothed her. "There is plenty of time for you to remember, and we will all help you. But I promise, you will never have to go back to him and he is not your master! No elfling is born to slavery."
"But he…" Alassë regarded the fair faced Elvenking with sad confusion. "He said…"
"It matters not what he told you, Alassë," Thranduil said gently, reaching out to gently stroke her cheek with his thumb. "No one is permitted to take an elfling from my realm, or Celeborn's, or Elrond's to use as a slave. All children of the Eldar are born to freedom. There are no exceptions. Whoever this person is, what he did was very wrong and he will be punished for it!"
Utterly bewildered, but comforted at being spoken to so gently, Alassë reached out to touch a lock of Thranduil's silky hair. Seeing the palm of her hand, Elrond suddenly frowned. There was a bump, as though something was embedded in her skin, and it looked to be festering.
"Let me see your hand," Elrond instructed gently, and softly ghosted his fingers over the wound, making her wince. "How did this happen?"
"I dropped a pitcher and the glass was everywhere. He made me go on my hands and knees to clean it up," the elfling replied, hanging her head with shame before looking up in alarm. "But I did not do it on purpose! Honestly!" The last thing she wanted was these kind elves to think she was bad.
"I am sure you did not," Elrond calmed her softly. "All elflings make mistakes and have accidents, and even some grown elves do. You could not have helped dropping it. But there is a shard of glass still in your palm, tithen pen, and I am going to have to take it out. Can you hold still for me?"
The child nodded fearfully, and sat stock still as Elrond removed the cruel-looking shard from her hand, and then bandaged it up. Seeing how her body wracked with silent sobs and tears ran down her face, Elrond would have preferred it if she had screamed. It was horrifying to see that, now fully awake, she was afraid to make a noise.
"That was very brave of you," Thranduil praised her, his heart wrenching as he saw how she was now trying to gulp back her tears. "There is no shame in weeping, sweetling. You can cry all you want to, and we will not be cross, I promise."
The child laid her head on Elrond's chest and quietly sobbed out her pain. It was a long time since someone had held her like this and Elrond's gentle, rhythmic rocking began to soothe her and make her eyelids droop. She fought desperately to stay awake; afraid of the horror that awaited her in the darkness of nightmares. But she was so tired...
"What you need, young one, is some sleep," Elrond read her feelings and kissed the crown of her head. "I will give you something to keep your nightmares away."
He passed the child into Thranduil's warm embrace while he mixed an elixir for dreamless sleep. He held the cup to her lips and she drank obediently. Elrond picked her back up into his arms and walked back and forth for a moment until her eyes glazed over once again.
He placed her back into the bed and tucked her in, before crossing to the door to call Mithrandir and the twins back in from the corridor.
"Forgive me for asking you to leave," the Lord of Imladris explained. "But I though she had had enough terror for one night."
"It is all right, Ada, we understand," replied the twins solemnly, while Mithrandir nodded in agreement. "We would not have wanted to cause her any more distress! She is already so unhappy."
"We are going to have to try jogging her memory properly tomorrow," said Thranduil grimly. "We must find her abuser and make it clear to him that the children of the Eldar are not to be treated as he has been treating her, nor is any other child for that matter! We have to stop him before he can cause more harm!"
"You are right, little cousin," said Celeborn, ignoring Thranduil's mock-glare at the form of address. "And we are going to have to decide what is going to happen to her. Where is she going to live?"
"I trust you will not be attempting to find her parents again," said Mithrandir, his voice full of disgust for the ones he suspected had abused her so much.
"Of course not," said Elrond. "Her mother is dead, and I am not satisfied that her father didn't have something to do with this. Sending her back is out of the question."
"I would foster her, mellon nin." said Thranduil at once. Elrond smiled gently, knowing how much Thranduil had wanted a second child. "I would treat her as my own."
"I know you would, gwador," Elrond put his hand on his best friend's shoulder. "But I think the journey to Mirkwood might be too much for her. She is frail and malnourished as it is. And we still are not sure which of the Woodland realms she was born in. It would not do to send her back so that the ones who made her feel responsible for her mother's passing could claim her once more."
"You're right." Thranduil smiled ruefully, disappointment in his eyes. "She will be safer here in Imladris. There are fewer threats than there are in Mirkwood or Lorien. You can at least boast of being spider and orc free, whilst we cannot."
"She has won over Celebrian's heart already, and Arwen has been begging for a sister since she learned how to talk!" chuckled Elrond, before looking at his sons. "I do not suppose either of you two have any objections?"
"Of course not!" said Elladan at once, stroking the sleeping elfling's hair protectively.
"We will keep her safe from harm!" vowed Elrohir, at his twin's side. "We won't let anyone hurt her ever again!"
"I suppose I can settle for being uncle then, my friend," replied Thranduil. "Anything rather than putting her into danger."
"It's going to be a lot for her to take in one morning," remarked Celeborn mildly. "Between trying to relive her past and understanding that you want to take her in, she will be quite overcome! I remember with Haldir, it took quite a while for him to understand that anyone would want to take him in simply out of love – and he had not been through anything like the horror that this little one has."
"Yes, she has been clearly starved of love," said Elrond sadly, watching the way the child curled up in her sleep; huddling in on herself, as if to ward off blows. "We must make up for that in every way we can."
Late the next morning, Alassë opened her eyes blearily, having slept soundly and peacefully since Elrond had given her the elixir. She heard the sound of the door and began to scramble up in alarm. He'd come to wake her! She'd slept too late!
As her sleepy eyes fell on the surroundings, Alassë suddenly remembered that she was no longer in his camp. She was in the home of that dark-headed elf who had held her so warmly last night. He had tended her wounds and let her cry without beating her for the offence. Then the one called Thranduil, the one with dazzling eyes, had promised that she never had to go back to him, and that he was no longer her master. And there was another one, Celeborn, who had held her on his lap when she first came to and realised where she was.
She was finally amongst elves once more! They had been gentle and caring and promised to help her. She was safe here. He could not find her here! She gave a weak sob of relief and sank back down against the pillows, wincing as a spasm of pain shot through her damaged ankle.
"Good morning, little one!"
She almost jumped out of her skin as a cheerful voice sounded from the side of her bed. Bewilderedly, she found herself looking at two versions of the same elf; both with dark hair and grey eyes. They did not seem to be as old as the elves she had met last night, yet they were both fully grown. They appeared to be very good humoured, for their eyes were bright and merry, and both had gentle smiles on their faces.
"Easy there. There is no need for alarm. I hope you are feeling better!" said the one on the right, as they both sat on the bed, at her feet. "My name is Elladan, and this is Elrohir. Will you tell us yours?"
"Alassë." she stammered.
"You don't have to be scared of us, Alassë," said the one called Elrohir in a gentle voice. "This is our Ada's house, and there is no one here who will want to harm you. Quite the opposite, in fact! We will keep you safe!"
Alassë was still looking confusedly back and forth between the two when they were suddenly disturbed by a tall blond elf, whom she recognised (His name was Glorfindel, wasn't it?) from the night before.
"Elladan and Elrohir Elrondion!" he scolded sternly. "I've a mind to heat both your backsides, fully grown or no! Your Ada said to leave the poor child to sleep!"
"She was awake when we got here, Glorfindel," said Elladan mildly, getting to his feet respectfully. "We heard her stir and thought we would look in to see how she was." Glorfindel could not help but smile at their earnest faces before looking at the dazed blond elfling in the bed.
"How are you feeling this morning, little one?" he asked gently, coming over to feel her forehead.
"Better," answered Alassë truthfully. The healing herbs that Elrond had used on her scars had indeed taken a great deal of the pain away.
"That is good," said Glorfindel, then he laughed as he noticed how she was staring at the twins. "Do not be alarmed, child, you are not seeing double. They are identical because they are twins."
"Twins?" The word sparked in Alassë's mind and she suddenly was able to remember a smiling face with bright eyes and a cheerful grin. "Like me and Feredir!"
"You have a twin brother?" Glorfindel asked, delighted at this sudden progress, while the child gasped and she looked at Glorfindel in shock.
"I remembered! I remembered!"