Chapter Twenty-Five: Mended Hurts Wounded Hearts
Amber candlelight spilled onto the polished surfaces of dark mahogany, dripping crimson wax like blood down the slender stick. The wavering light cast unsteady shadows on the walls, paling with the coming of dawn.
Ainan glanced around at those gathered around him. His most trusted captains- every one of them. Eraeriel stood nearby, wary and watchful, her dark eyes regarding the proceedings with a disquieted gaze.
“There are those who are still loyal to King Thranduil,” Kirar was saying, shifting nervously. He looked very much out of place among these grim-faced, bloody-handed elves and his unsteady gaze did not reflect the conviction in theirs.
The kingdom was tearing itself in two, choosing sides: with those still faithful to their former king and his family and those who, by fear or fanaticism, flocked to the usurperÂ’s banner. Rumors had distorted the truth and now even those who lived on the fringes of the palace spoke with betrayal and murder on their lips- though of course none dared accuse Ainan openly (within his hearing at least.)
A lingering darkness hung like a wrack of clouds over the once bright palace.
“The preparations have been made, my lord,” the elf standing beside Kirar interjected, his eyes hard and glance steady.
“Have they arrived?” Ainan asked, looking up for the first time. The soldier nodded obediently.
“They await you in the courtyard.”
With all of the former guards locked away in the dungeons, Ainan had needed to replenish his own garrison with his allies- the last remnant of his own people of former Southern Mirkwood who had come up the river last night.
Ainan looked up as the door opened noiselessly and Tindómëtir slunk into the room, taking his place beside Eraeriel and standing silent with head bowed. For a flittering reason that he could not explain, he felt a thrill of unease run up his spine and immediately commanded his captains to leave him; they had their orders.
When they had gone, Ainan gave his back to his servant, gliding over to a smooth wooden box that rested on the long table. Unlatching it, he gave a little sigh of pleasure and lifted from its blue velvet resting place, a silver circlet gleaming in the pale flames of candlelight. He smiled privately to himself as he set it upon his forehead, the green jewel gracing its centre flashing in the red light of dawn that seeped through the rich drawn back curtains.
The crown of a true King.
And yet, some still contested his claim to the throne. Yes, he was the QueenÂ’s brother and the right was his by blood. But there was also the QueenÂ’s child to consider. By right, the kingship belonged to the KingÂ’s son, his heir. And the thought made Ainan seethe with fury.
But soon it would not matter.
“Have you discovered where my dear sister is keeping herself these days?” he asked casually, adjusting the circlet so that it fit smoothly over his brow.
“Not yet, hir nin (my lord).” Tindómëtir answered sullenly as though he could care less what the Queen was doing. He shifted slightly and Ainan cut a glance at him in irritation.
“What is it?” he demanded, fixing a heavy glare on his subordinate.
The dark elfÂ’s eyes darted for an instant only to the woman in the corner.
With an imperious gesture, Ainan bade her leave them and she curtsied obediently and quit the room, her baleful eyes resting a venomous moment on the thin dark elf before whisking away in a sweep of glittering gems and midnight colored silk.
Ainan stared hard at Tindómëtir who still stood with his head down as though in thought or fear until he was sure the woman had gone.
“Speak,” Ainan snapped impatiently, finally breaking the thick silence that had swathed them like a pall in its smothering embrace.
“The Lothlórien prisoners have escaped, sir.”
AinanÂ’s silver-blue eyes blazed with an angry fire.
“What?” he hissed. When the dark elf did not answer, his master stalked towards him furiously and seized him roughly by the chin, forcing his head up.
“What have you done, you fool!” he snarled, shaking him angrily. “If they get free and find others to aid them- we will have a rebellion on our hands. It will mean the ruination of all of our plans! Our hard-won sacrifice! And if by chance they win through and the King is rescued, what then?” His eyes held a near-frantic look as he shook his servant’s shoulder hard. “They will have us butchered like orcs, do you understand me?”
He shoved him brusquely backwards towards the door. “I want them found, Tindómëtir. Immediately!”
Stumbling, the dark elf caught himself against the doorframe and his eyes glittered under hooded lids but he bowed his head in obedience to his lordÂ’s will.
“It shall be as you say, hir nin (my lord).”
Breathing quickly, Ainan did not dare turn his back on him, but his eyes darted nervously around the room as though he expected to see the grey-clad figures of vengeful elves watching him from the yet unlighted corners of the chamber. He wrung his hands for a moment of agitation then a small smile upturned the corners of his lips as he calmly lifted the crown from his head and locked it away again.
“I think it is time to pay my nephew a visit.”
~*~
Sunlight did not sully her fair hand reaching into the deepest caverns of the elves. Nothing but Endless Night, unceasing darkness. He had been trapped in it for so long. Legolas bowed his pounding head, the clink of his chains the only noise in his cell. The night had seemed unending and left alone with his spiraling thoughts, the prince feared he would go mad. He longed for a breath of clean, fresh air, the sight of trickling water, of the sun, of anything other than the darkness and the damp, dank, grey walls of his prison.
He could no longer feel the pain of his back anymore, retreating so deeply inside himself, he could only feel the pain in his heart. His thoughts had funneled slowly down into black nothingness. There was nothing more to think about. He would die here. He was hungry, thirsty, and he missed his mother but he had given up hope of ever seeing her again and even if he did, she would not love him for what he deemed his treasonous behavior that had led to her suffering. His father was surely dead by now, Lóthmir, Haldir… all of them.
After so long a time in the dark silence, Legolas started when he heard the muffled sound of a bar being raised and a latch sliding neatly back. He raised his white face to the torchlight, blinking like an owl in the harsh orange glow that flooded into his cell as though to fill it and chase away all shadows.
But the light dimmed quickly as Legolas caught sight of his uncleÂ’s face in the radiance. He lowered his head in submission. He didnÂ’t care what his uncle did to him anymore. He had nothing left.
“Well, Legolas, I promised you and I always keep my promises,” Ainan said with an ironic smile as he looked down at the young elf’s face, slightly surprised at the listless look the prince gave him in return. Ainan’s face darkened, mistaking that indifferent gaze for defiance behind his nephew’s blue eyes.
“Heed me, Legolas.” He waited until he had his full attention. “Your father lives still. But I can quickly change that and should you attempt to betray me there will be no end to his suffering- or yours. You think you have suffered thus far? You do not know true torment yet,” Ainan warned, dark promise in his silver-blue eyes as he unshackled the prince from the wall.
And Legolas believed him though the feeling felt dim somehow as though he felt only the shadow of the emotion. He had felt too much in the last few days and had pulled back all of his inner senses, stashing them as deep inside himself as he possibly could.
Wobbling on unsteady legs, he leant against the wall for a moment, shooting an uneasy glance up at his uncle who stood still and silent, staring down at him.
Ainan could afford to be indulgent.
Moving forward, he wrapped a companionable arm around his nephewÂ’s shoulder, blithely ignoring LegolasÂ’ muffled gasp of pain as he laid his hand on still-tender wounds. He steered the young prince past the cell door and up to the familiar tunnels of the elves.
“Go on, now, tôrion. Fly to your mother and bring her my love,” he smiled cruelly with a careless wave as though they had reverted to their old instruction and he was releasing Legolas to join his friends at play.
Legolas paused for a torn instant, still expecting to be snatched away and dragged back to his cell in cruel torment. But they did nothing and for some reason that made the prince even more uneasy. His uncle stared at him as a barn cat does a mouse it is letting retreat for the sole purpose of seizing it by the throat when it turns its back.
Without pausing to think about it any longer, Legolas spun around and ran for dear life, ignoring the sharp pain that sprang through the disused muscles of his legs.
“My lord, do you think this wise?” Tindómëtir asked quietly, eyeing the prince’s rapidly retreating back. Ainan smiled slightly to himself as he cast a sideways glance at his subordinate.
“Fool,” he tutted chidingly. “You know so little of what goes on around you. Surely you do not think I would leave my innocent and very naïve nephew out there all alone in a dangerous world?” His grin broadened. “He will try to find his mother- and that is exactly what I guessed he would do. Then we shall strike hard and fast against her upstart rebellion! And I will have rule over the entire forest as it always should have been.” His silver-blue eyes gleamed red in the torchlight as he turned them on the dark elf at his side.
“You will follow him, of course. Naturally, he will seek out those who will help him- his mother… and others. And, if he seeks any other…” He lifted a hand, presenting it to the dark elf. On his upturned palm, a long knife glittered coldly in the orange flame-light.
“Kill them.”
~*~
His breath hissed through his teeth and Haldir closed his eyes as she tugged the bandage tighter about his midsection.
“You’re lucky these weren’t any deeper or they would have cut more than your skin,” the woman said lightly, who seemed to have some skill in healing as she cleaned and bound their wounds.
Ancadal scratched at his own bandages as he perched lightly on a barrel, glancing about their current hideaway.
Their enigmatic guide had led them a merry dance before they came to this place. It seemed to be an unused storeroom of sorts, hidden deeply within the bowels of the palace where she assured them that none would find them. Four stone walls and a single, sturdy wooden door with neither lock nor bar, a dim lantern that swung overhead made and a few scattered barrels- most of them empty- made up the sparse chamber.
Their guide was silent. She had not even told them her name and when asked, refused to speak. She had left them for a short while and returned laden with loaves of bread and a pitcher of water, bandages and blankets which were gratefully accepted by all three. It seemed forever since they had tasted a drop or morsel and their wounds badly needed tending. Now they sat or stood somewhat comfortably, eating their fare and deciding what they would do next for they could not stay even here for long.
“You have helped us thus far and have not led us astray nor betrayed us to our enemies,” Haldir said quietly, looking at their guide as she wiped her bloody hands on her cloak. “Now, I entrust this to you: take our message to the Queen. Alert her of our freedom and desire to aid her as we can. We need a safe place to meet…”
“I will do what I can,” The woman assured him, wrapping her long cloak about her once more, muffling her vibrant hair. “I will knock thrice so you that I have returned.” With that, she disappeared with the silence of a wraith.
When she had gone, Haldir sighed and took a seat on an upturned barrel, leaning his head back against the wall. The cool stone felt good against his aching head.
All they had to do now was wait.
Still, he shifted uncomfortably on his hard seat, uneasy in his mind as he faced the door, half-expecting Tindómëtir and half a dozen soldiers to come bursting through it at any moment. However, a sharp pain behind his eyes distracted him from his vigil at the door.
The lashes on his back had been bound with little trouble and they barely stung at all anymore but another more alarming ache from within worried him considerably. That foul mist had done something to him but he had no idea how to treat it or what it would do. And he didnÂ’t have time to think of himself right now anyway with LegolasÂ’ as well as all of their lives, at stake.
Haldir let his head fall into his hand as he rubbed at his brow. The pain was growing and it was becoming increasingly more difficult to catch his breath. So difficult, he feared for a moment that he had stopped breathing altogether but he couldnÂ’t seem to bring his mind to focus on that small fact.
He hadnÂ’t even realized he had fallen to the floor until he felt an arm sliding under his back, lifting him into a sitting position. He blinked thickly, his thoughts disjointed and muddled as he looked into AncadalÂ’s shocked eyes.
“Easy, sir. You fell rather hard.”
Haldir felt the tips of his ears burn with shame and he winced at the headache he felt gathering behind his eyes as a stabbing sensation knifed through his right temple from where it had struck the stone. Unconsciously, he leaned back against his friendÂ’s shoulder as he felt the floor jolt under him like the deck of a ship.
“I-I wish Cálivien was here,” he whispered, only half-paying attention to what he was actually saying. A wave of dread passed through the younger elf as Ancadal swallowed hard, fearing that he would lose yet another friend.
“So do I,” he murmured too quietly for the other to hear. Haldir was too far gone to hear him anyway.
“What’s wrong with him?” Rameil’s concerned voice broke the spellbinding horror that held the younger elf in thrall. Ancadal blinked and shook his head, looking down at his friend cradled in his arms.
“I don’t know.”
Rameil rose from his seat and knelt beside his two friends, touching HaldirÂ’s shoulder, gently trying to rouse him from whatever dream he had fallen into.
To their mingled relief and concern, Haldir jerked out of AncadalÂ’s arms as though scalded, blinking rapidly to clear his vision. He realized with a pang of self-consciousness that they were both staring at him, twin looks of concern and fear on their faces. Forcing aside the sickness with pure strength of will, Haldir heaved himself up and reseated himself shakily on the barrel.
“Are you all right?” Rameil asked, the concern clearly written on his narrow features. Haldir nodded absently, swaying for a moment before regaining his bearings.
He was not broken yet.
Ancadal held his shoulder to make sure he was steady before stepping back. Haldir flashed him an evanescent grin.
“I’m all right,” he said calmly, trying to reassure him.
The younger elf still looked very doubtful and hesitated a moment longer, appraising him steadily until Haldir gave him a playful shove.
“Go on both of you! You fuss more than mother hens,” he laughed. But even to his ears it sounded forced.
He wanted nothing more at that moment than to go home with a wish- disappear from this nightmare and sleep until he forgot it. But he could not. He could not abandon them to this now. Not when LegolasÂ’ fate was still uncertain. Not while there was still a chance that he might be alive.
Haldir rubbed a hand across his eyes. They wouldnÂ’t even be in this mess had he been smart enough to realize that Legolas needed help. He should never have left him! Now, the prince was in his uncleÂ’s hands suffering what torment he could not imagine! The knowledge that Legolas could be nearby but so far out of reach, cold and in pain made him tremble with anger and sorrow. He had left his friend when he needed him most. He should have tried to find him rather than skulking here, pitying himself.
But reflecting on what-ifÂ’s and should haveÂ’s would get him nowhere.
Ancadal, anxious and puzzled, by his friendÂ’s prolonged silence, examined his face with a careful eye. Something had happened while they had been imprisoned- something Haldir had kept to himself, Ancadal could see it in his face. But his wounds had been tended and were not life-threatening. It was something else. But what? Grief and sorrow lay deeply etched in HaldirÂ’s face and it tore at the younger elfÂ’s heart to see him so.
“What’s wrong?”
Haldir sighed and simply shook his head.
“Nothing. I told you I am fine,” he said, trying not to flinch as a fresh wave of pain throbbed just behind his eyes.
“And I’m telling you, you’re a deplorable liar,” Ancadal rejoined, staring up at his friend with increasing anxiety. He knelt solemnly at his side, looking oddly young and shy as he laid a hand on his elder’s knee.
“We have already lost Cálivien. Rameil and I cannot lose you too.”
Haldir looked down into his friendÂ’s face and saw there such concern, such loyalty, such faith, it lifted his spirits a little. He laid a hand on the other elfÂ’s forearm, raising him to his feet and standing beside him. He flashed a small fleeting smile.
“You will not lose me, mellon nin (my friend).”
Ancadal examined him for another long moment before dropping his gaze with a sigh. He rubbed his blackened eye with a grimace, stifling a yawn. Haldir smiled at him and slapped his shoulder fondly.
“Take your rest, mellon nin. We’ll have need of our strength soon,” Haldir said, motioning the younger elf away.
Ancadal nodded wearily; he didnÂ’t have the strength left in him to argue anymore. Wordlessly he dragged a coarse empty sack that had once held flour and now served as good a mattress as they were likely to find over to the wall and settled a guardÂ’s cloak over his shoulders as he lay down next to his friend. Almost immediately, he lifted his head again.
“Let me know if you need anything,” He said and would not lie down again until Haldir had nodded his consent.
He waited until the young elfÂ’s breathing beside him deepened and his eyes unfocused in hopefully pleasant dreams. Swiftly, he glanced to the other side of the room. He could not tell if Rameil was asleep or not for the dark-haired elfÂ’s back was to him but he lay still and did not move.
Rising stiffly from his seat on the barrel, he paused for an instant, making sure he had his bearings. The pain in his head had receded a little but he could not wait for it to fade completely- he had to find Legolas and he could not rest not knowing if he was already too late. He had never been good at waiting. The young woman had not returned yet but his friends were safe here, for now. He could leave them and be back with Legolas in no time. He hoped.
But they would not be happy with him. Haldir glanced back at his sleeping friends with a sad smile and prayed that they would forgive him. And that he would live to see them again.
Silently, he donned his borrowed guardÂ’s tunic again, rolling back his sleeves to free his hands and slipped out into the corridor.
~*~
The crisp air flowing through the open passage revived him a little, cleared his lungs. Haldir felt a little better though his stomach was tying itself in knots and his heart pounded loudly in his ears as he paced the corridors. He paused outside the Great Hall, a cavernous empty room of high-reaching green veined pillars and a vaulted ceiling which peered into the living world through a small hole cut into it. White clouds scudded across the sky and he could just glimpse a gleam of sunshine on the white marble.
The tall throne at the top of the broad dais stood empty.
Fighting down a disconcerting sense of premonition, Haldir moved on. He did not know what had happened to the King but he prayed, for all their sakes that Thranduil had not yet found his way to MandosÂ’ Halls.
He flitted through the passages as silently as a ghost, passing un-remarked through the vacant corridors. He pulled his borrowed hood low over his eyes and kept his head bent, looking like every other soldier in the Mirkwood garrison- or so he hoped.
And it was well that he did so. In the short hours since their escape, word had spread and soldiers armed and girded with long swords stalked every hall, searching, watching keen-eyed and grim. Haldir walked among them as easily as he could with his heart pounding like a jackhammer. One even approached him with a grin and a familiar greeting, recognizing perhaps the insignia embroidered on his left breast. Haldir gave him a suitably vague reply and the elf thankfully did not linger.
Walking along the landing of the second floor above the Great Hall, Haldir searched desperately for a way to get back down to the dungeons- he knew that was where Ainan would have hidden Legolas but this palace confounded him! So many tunnels- all similar save for the types of tapestries adorning the walls- twisting and twining passages: so unlike to the smooth straight paths of his homeland. He knew the longer he stayed out here, the greater his risk. He had to find Legolas soon.
He stopped at the top of a long flight of stairs, staring down the breadth of them for any sign of movement.
At first, he didnÂ’t think there was any save for a few flickering shadows cast by the dripping yellow candles stuck in the long stemmed candelabras standing at the bottom of the stairs.
Then one of those shadows moved.
His heart tripped as he stood transfixed upon the landing as though he had suddenly become one of the statues that flanked him. He gazed down the sweeping staircase at the lithe, golden-haired form passing swiftly below him, darting from pillar to pillar as though praying not to be seen.
There was only one he knew that had such hair. And his keen eyes finally caught sight of that familiar face in a flash of candlelight.
“Legolas,” Haldir breathed, leaping down the stairs three at a time before he lost sight of the prince. He could hardly believe his eyes and wondered a moment if this might be some deception of the poison in his system or a phantasm of his own troubled thoughts.
But the shade slipped behind one of the large columns and vanished almost immediately. Haldir rounded it, searching vainly for a moment then a flash of gold caught his eye at the far end of the hall and he raced after it, not daring to call aloud for fear of arousing any cries but anxious to catch this phantom before he lost sight of him.
~*~
In blind terror, Legolas ran, catching sight of the livery of the Guard. If he were discovered, he would be questioned and that he could not allow. His uncle would think he had told someone and then his father would die. He had to escape! But the figure behind him did not relent and Legolas, desperate, put on a new burst of speed and flung himself into a long room, sprinting across it and throwing himself down behind a statue of his grandfather, Oropher.
The ancient elven king stood in carven likeness, guarding the ever falling white fountain that graced the centre of the chamber. His curved sword was raised high, stony hair cascading over strong shoulders, his shield proudly upraised and emblazoned with the devices of his house. Legolas knelt there at its base, crammed as far into the crevice between the wall and the statue as he could, in the darkest corner he could find.
Every second lasted an eternity in which he lay crouched, his heart thumping hard between his ribs as he tried not to breathe though his lungs ached. His back, pressed against the cold flank of the marble statue, burned horribly but he made no sound. He knew he had reopened his only half-healed wounds and his head felt light and dizzy.
Breathing heavily, Haldir halted mere meters away from where the young prince hid, his grey eyes scanning the vast room in search of his elusive quarry. The fountainÂ’s trickling waters surged upward gently from far beneath the ground, its hushing whisper the only sound in the chamber.
Ignoring the beauty around him, Haldir stepped lightly, keeping close within the shadow of the wall. He could sense the otherÂ’s presence in the room and knew Legolas had not fled down another corridor but he couldnÂ’t nail down exactly where. He knew the prince was frightened- and certainly not without good reason. But he had to get him to trust him, no matter what had happened. No matter what Ainan had done to him or the threats he had made, he had to get Legolas to come with him. It was their only chance.
“Legolas,” he said softly in a whisper that carried nonetheless across the empty hall. “Legolas… it’s me. Haldir. It’s safe. You don’t have to hide anymore…”
Staying where he was, the prince squeezed his eyes shut tight. He knew that blessedly familiar voice but he could not answer. Dared not. Friend or foe, no one could help him now. Not even HaldirÂ… Legolas felt his eyes tear with relief that his friend was alive but the other part of him, the doubtful part, chewed at him, gnawed at his relief. If Haldir was freeÂ… why hadnÂ’t he come for him? He had promised he wouldnÂ’t leave him.
And he had.
That voice in his head made Legolas cringe and keep silent, his knees drawn up almost to his chin as he tried to breathe lightly, praying the other elf wouldnÂ’t discover him.
But Haldir was coming steadily closer, peering carefully at every shadow, every corner, behind every tapestry or statue. He was only feet away now and Legolas knew he would be exposed whether or not he moved. He gingerly stuck his head around the statueÂ’s leg, pulling back sharply as he realized how close the other elf was. He waited a moment until he was sure Haldir had his back to him and then he broke from his concealment, racing like the wind towards the arched doorway at the end of the chamber.
But long trained in the art of stealth, that was all Haldir needed to alert him and he twisted round to see Legolas bolting down the hallway swift as an arrow from a bow. The older elf leapt after him, frantic to catch him, ignoring the pain igniting in his arms and legs as he forced them on faster and farther than he thought he could go. Desperation leant wings to his feet and he slowly began to close the distance between the elven prince and himself, jumping flights of stairs or bounding up them, heedless of the growing pain ripping through his back and the sweat dripping into his eyes.
Legolas finally faltered and stumbled against the wall, his horrific injuries and near exhaustion catching up to him at last- only a moment did he take to regain his balance but it was enough. Haldir seized his arm and hung on for dear life as Legolas struggled like a wild thing, trying to escape his captorÂ’s grip, urgency and terror reflected in his white face. Seeing that the prince was not himself, Haldir shook him slightly just enough to rattle him.
“Legolas, daro! Daro! (Stop! Stop!) I’m your friend! I’m trying to help you!”
Finally realizing that he could resist no longer, Legolas slumped in his friendÂ’s grasp, panting and dizzy. His back burned with a horrible fire and he felt sick. For a moment the only thing he could do was lean into his friendÂ’s arms, hearing HaldirÂ’s heart pound thunderously under his ear as his chest rose and fell irregularly from the long chase that had drained the both of them.
Haldir laid a gentle hand atop the young elfÂ’s dusty golden head, feeling his trembling. The poor child was nearly dead on his feet.
After he had regained his breath somewhat, Haldir swallowed against the dryness in his throat and spoke.
“How did you get free?”
That hadnÂ’t been what heÂ’d meant to say. HeÂ’d meant to tell the prince how glad and unspeakably relieved he was to find him alive and to tell him that it was going to be all right, that he didnÂ’t have to be afraid of anyone anymore. That he could see his mother again. Instead that question had popped out of his mouth. He could only gaze numbly down into the princeÂ’s face as he eyed the lingering traces of horror behind LegolasÂ’ blue eyes and the heaving back under his hand.
Flinching back, Legolas shook his head, avoiding HaldirÂ’s eyes with a mixture of shame and fear. He did not deserve HaldirÂ’s friendship or his concern. He was a weakling. A craven. A nothing. And he feared that if he even spoke to his friend, Ainan would make good his threats.
“I-I can’t tell you anything…”
Haldir advanced as the prince retreated from him, afraid he would start running again.
“No!” Legolas cried in such an anguished tone that Haldir froze, unwilling to reach for him again lest the prince grow even more fearful and flee. He seemed liked a rabbit caught in a snare, willing to gnaw his own leg off to escape.
“Shhh,” Haldir soothed with a tentative glance up and down the hall. Neither of them could risk being seen and the empty silence around them was not entirely comforting. “Legolas, it’s all right. He can’t hurt you anymore.” Vainly, he tried to recover the words he’d meant to say. He couldn’t understand why Legolas wanted to run from him. Something had spooked him badly.
Legolas just shook his head.
“Legolas, where is he?” he asked softly, fearing some trap. But the prince would not answer him and merely stared at him with wide, uncomprehending eyes.
“Legolas,” Haldir pleaded when he didn’t answer, his arm extended supplicatingly towards the frightened young elf. “I must know where he is. He cannot be protected any more.”
“I am not protecting him,” Legolas spat desperately, fear squeezing his heart as his uncle’s warning reverberated through his mind and soul. If he even let one word slip, his father and mother, his friends would die; it was they he was trying to protect. He could say nothing- not even to his friend. And yet Haldir pressed him, ignorant of the terrible trap Legolas was caught in and not understanding why the young elf wouldn’t trust him.
“He has killed! And he will do so again!” Haldir near-shouted, his mounting frustration and growing pain making him snap angrily. There was a deeper anguish behind his dark eyes but Legolas did not see it- would not see it. He tugged away from the elf’s comforting touch.
“Have no more to do with this. I beg you, hir nin, (my lord)” he said in quiet coldness. The formality of the title made Haldir actually flinch back as though the prince had struck him. Legolas didn’t notice how gaunt and shadow-eyed the other elf appeared. How new lines of pain and care had been etched into his white face.
Haldir stepped towards him again but Legolas shied away.
“Please, Legolas. I’m only trying to help.” But, Legolas’ cerulean eyes held no gratitude- only venom.
The floodgates had been released.
“You have helped enough and now my family has paid!” Tears glittered stingingly behind the prince’s blue eyes but he refused to let them fall. Words unceasing rushed from his mouth. He didn’t know what he was saying anymore but they spilled out anyway, a terrible flood of anger and helplessness that he had long kept locked tightly inside him.
“It’s all your fault! If you had not meddled then my father would be here! Then my friends would not be in danger! It’s all your fault! I hate you!” The tears streamed down his cheeks now and he didn’t care. A part of Legolas’ mind knew that what he was saying was false- that these damning words could not be coming from his own mouth. He felt terrible saying them and even as he spoke he felt wretched guilt twist at his insides.
But the pain-wracked, frightened and angry half of him felt sickeningly good. Someone had to take the blame. These horrid things had started occurring only after this elf had arrived! It was his fault! But his throat had tightened too much for speech and he tried to turn his back on the elf to run. But Haldir quickly blocked his path, his face stricken.
“Bado uin mén! (Move out of the way!)” The younger elf snapped, his nerves frayed dangerously thin with pain, exhaustion and emotion. Haldir seized the younger elf by the elbow to restrain him afraid he would hurt himself but Legolas wrenched away with desperate strength.
“Do not touch me!” he hissed, his sapphire eyes blazing. Haldir took a surprised step back. Where had this hatred come from?
“Legolas, what is going on?” He tried to keep his voice steady.
Instead of answering the younger elf merely shook his head and turned away, his hands cupping his elbows as though he were cold. Haldir spread his hands pleadingly, terribly confused by this bitterly unexpected reaction.
“I’m only trying to help,” he repeated and tentatively placed a hand on the prince’s shoulder. Legolas tore away from him again, the tears he had fought so hard to contain rolling still faster down his cheeks. But he didn’t have the strength to move further away.
“I trusted you,” Legolas said quietly in a surprisingly calm voice. He still would not meet the other elf’s gaze. “You left me.” This time he looked up and that terrible blank blue gaze pierced the older elf like a knife through the heart.
“Legolas, I-” he stammered. He didn’t know what he was trying to say. But whatever it was, the injured prince did not want to hear it. He whirled round to run but Haldir, desperate not to lose him again, grabbed his shoulder.
It was the wrong thing to do.
Wracked with exhaustion and pain, his soul consumed with anger and hurt, the prince reacted. His fist connected with the older elfÂ’s jaw. Caught off guard by the sudden blow, Haldir tumbled backwards, striking the wall where he slid to his knees, dazed. Stunned with surprise, he looked up at Legolas, a hand to his face. The prince gazed down at him in abject terror, frozen. Then, without once looking back, he spun about and bolted down the hall, soon vanishing from sight altogether.
Shakily, Haldir rose to his feet, glancing at the blood on his fingertips. He tasted it running down his chin but he didnÂ’t wipe it away.
Shocked and hurt, he could only stand there, staring down the empty hall, confusion and pain whirling through him. He stumbled forward mindlessly, unsure of what he was actually doing. He knew Legolas was too far away to hear him even if he shouted but he didnÂ’t think he had the strength. Even as he thought this, his vision blurred, an arching pain tearing through his head nearly bringing him to his knees again.
“Legolas,” Haldir pleaded, staggering against the wall, grasping vainly at the stone to keep himself upright. “…wait.”
Every word rang in HaldirÂ’s ears and he closed his eyes, wishing he could block out the accusing blue stare of the prince. Guilt and nausea sliced through him as his tired mind torturously replayed LegolasÂ’ words over and over in his head.
I trusted youÂ… You left meÂ…I hate youÂ…I hate youÂ…
He was right. Haldir had abandoned him to AinanÂ’s cruel uses. Had left him in the hands of his enemies. His back felt hot and something sticky made his tunic cling to his skin.
But the horrible, betrayed look he had seen in his young friendÂ’s eyes had cut him more deeply than any of AinanÂ’s lashings ever could.