EXPOSED TO THE LIGHT

CHAPTER TEN

A/N: I would like to respond to those who have reviewed this story so far and thank you for your comments. They are much appreciated. I would just like to say that it is now entering the area where there will be slash and it will gradually become more graphic in nature. I hope that you will enjoy the next chapter.


LEGOLAS’ STORY


Kneeling just inside the entrance to the tent, Elrohir regarded Legolas while the blond Elf struggled to sit and with some measure of difficulty successfully managed to settle himself into a sitting position, leaning on one hand placed on the ground. Elrohir’s glance took in Legolas’ tangled, dirty hair, the dark circles under his haunted-looking eyes and the crease between his delicate brows.

‘He is brave,’ thought Elrohir. ‘He is a fighter who would never give up his determination to prevail over the worst odds no matter how badly he suffers. And I cannot help but feel drawn to him.’

Elrohir smiled at Legolas but did not speak, no words coming easily to his lips. He felt awkward because of his own nakedness, and could not think at the present time what to say. Legolas was staring back at the dark-haired Elf, his glance darting from Elrohir’s face to the clasped hands held in his lap.

“Legolas,” Elrohir finally spoke. “You have been asleep for a long time. It is good to see you awake. How are you feeling?”

Legolas emitted a series of dry coughs before he spoke. “I hurt everywhere,” he finally managed to croak. Misery was evident on his face, in the huge, sad eyes, the drawn cheeks and downturned lips. “I do not like to feel this way, as if I am not capable even of standing on my own feet.”

“You have been wounded,” Elrohir replied in a quiet voice full of patience and caring. “I wanted to examine you for wounds once you awakened so that I might tend to any serious ones that I did not see when I brought you here.” He reached out to grasp the edge of the blanket to pull it down from Legolas’ body to check for injuries.

“No,” hissed Legolas. “I am dirty and I do not wish you to see me this way. I wish I could bathe.” He sounded peevish.

Elrohir dropped his hand in a gesture of helplessness. “Then please come down to the creek with me,” he said, “where you can do so. I have washed my clothing and left it to dry so that we may share what little I have to wear. Come. Let us go there, where we can wash and dress ourselves in my clean clothes. You may keep yourself wrapped in my cloak if you wish that I not see you.”

Legolas nodded. Clutching Elrohir’s cloak to his throat with one hand, he supported himself by placing the other palm on the ground and pushing himself into a standing position. His knees quickly buckled and with a cry of exasperation he fell back onto the ground. Elrohir, out of pity for Legolas, stepped forward and lifted the prince into his arms, intending to carry him the rest of the way. The robe had slipped off of one of Legolas’ shoulders, allowing Elrohir to see some abrasions on that side of the prince’s slender body.

“Please set me down, Elrohir,” Legolas pleaded in a weak voice, pushing against his benefactor. “I would like to walk on my own.”

Elrohir obeyed, setting Legolas back onto his feet on the ground and helped to pull the cloak more tightly around his body. He placed a strong arm around the prince’s frail shoulders and patted him, the gesture intended to be reassuring. “Of course, Legolas,” he said. “I am sorry.” Walking slowly and supporting Legolas against his own frame, Elrohir led him the rest of the way to the stream.

Once they reached the water, Elrohir helped Legolas to sit down on the grassy bank. “I shall leave you here and let myself into the water,” he said. “You should come in with me so that I may help you wash, but if you prefer you can rest a while before doing so. You are tired. If you need my help, please feel free to ask.” Elrohir slid into the cool water and sat on the soothing mud at the bottom, stirring it up and letting it wash soothingly over his long legs.

After a few minutes of silence in which Legolas sat watching Elrohir, his knees bent and the cloak wrapped tightly around him, Elrohir thought he would question him. “Would you mind if I asked about the people who did this to you?”

Legolas let out a long breath and glanced up at Elrohir, his eyes large with a deep, faraway look . “They took us captive—Aragorn and me,” he stated flatly.

“Where is Aragorn?” asked Elrohir. “You were alone in that cave when I found you.”

Legolas swallowed and choked back some saliva. After a moment he replied: “I fought against the creatures. They put me in irons and took me away. Aragorn did not fight. He tried to talk to them. I know not where he is now.” His frown deepened.

“He tried to talk to them?” asked Elrohir. “But I was not able to understand their language. How could he?”

“He could not understand what they said,” Legolas replied, “but he tried to communicate with them by means of hand signals and by pictures that he drew in the mud with a stick.”

“What did he discover about them in that way?” asked Elrohir.

“Not very much,” Legolas replied. “Only perhaps that they are different from us—they are not Elvish and not quite human—but not quite otherwise.” Legolas stopped for a moment and looked from Elrohir to the ground, his brows knitted and his lips parting in a sigh. When he gazed at Elrohir again his face bore an expression of regret. “Before they dragged me away for fighting against them and wounding some, I had told Aragorn that these beings had belonged to the Witch-king of old—that he had made the creatures thousands of years ago but they had rebelled against him—and that I thought they had come down out of the mountains after years of hiding in order to find their freedom.”

“The Witch-king of Angmar?” asked Elrohir in amazement. “The ruins of his old realm are approximately the same distance from here as Rivendell.”

“Rivendell,” Legolas repeated, his voice breaking on the name, his face crumpling into a mask of sorrow. He put a shaking hand to his forehead and began to weep.

“Oh, Legolas,” Elrohir murmured. A great wave of sympathy washed over him. He rose, the water from the stream running in rivulets down his smooth-muscled body, and he strode to Legolas’ side. He cast himself down upon the ground beside the Mirkwood Elf and gathered the prince into his strong arms, his brow furrowed, his eyes closed against the flooding emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. “Please do not cry. You shall see Rivendell again, and your home of Mirkwood too.”

Legolas sobbed wrenchingly for a few moments into Elrohir’s shoulder, his hands still upon his face, his palms pressed against his eyelids. “Do you not understand, Elrohir?” he cried softly. “It is my fault that Aragorn is lost. I should not have told him the stories about those creatures, knowing how interested he is in different peoples and their origins. I do not deserve to see or reside in any place of beauty again. Not until my friend—your adopted brother—is found safe from harm. If that is yet possible.”

After a while he stopped and tried to wipe his streaming eyes with a corner of Elrohir’s cloak. Elrohir brushed away some tangled strands of pale gold hair from Legolas’ face. He mustered as much of a smile as he could and looked into Legolas’ sad blue eyes. “You must not blame yourself. How were you to know what these strange beings would do to you? Do not worry. We will go to find Aragorn.” Holding Legolas’ face between his hands, he pressed a kiss to the blond Elf’s forehead.

When he released Legolas, he gave him a smile and brushed an errant strand of hair away from his eyes. “You remind me quite a lot of Bethos,” he remarked as he stroked the side of the prince’s face.

“B-Bethos?” Legolas stammered. “How do you know Bethos?” He gazed at Elrohir in wonder.

“Bethos,” Elrohir replied, “was part of our group of rangers who came north to search for you and Aragorn.”

“Was he?” asked Legolas, smiling for the first time since Elrohir had rescued him. “So my father has sent some of our warriors to look for me? Is Penlod with him also? Where are they now?”

“Yes, Penlod is with the rangers too. They are some distance northeast of us.” Elrohir thought for a moment. “Ilfrith is with them as well,” he said.

“Ilfrith!” exclaimed Legolas. “Why has Ilfrith come? How is it that she is hunting in the wilds for us? Why would my father allow her to place herself in such danger? We must go now! I must protect her, and I must find Aragorn!” Legolas tried to scramble weakly to his feet. He stepped on a corner of the cloak as he tried to stand up and in doing so, wrenched it off of his back. It fell in a soft pile of black wool to the ground. He tripped and stumbled, falling against Elrohir, knocking him backwards onto the grass so that the dark-haired Elf lay flat on his back.

Startled by the fall and lying spread-eagled on top of Elrohir, Legolas placed his hands flat against Elrohir’s chest, embarrassed for having been so clumsy. He quickly rolled off of the dark-haired Elf and lay down on his stomach beside him, turning his face away at first but then turning back to stare at Elrohir.

It took Elrohir a moment longer to recover from the accident. He felt the pleasurable touch between them and the sensation disturbed him. Stunned, he turned his head and looked Legolas fully in the face. ‘Gods, he really is beautiful despite his condition,’ Elrohir thought. Legolas resembled Bethos, but was bigger, fiercer, and also lovelier, with his huge blue eyes framed by dark brows and lashes. Elrohir gulped and discovered that he was short of breath. He did not want Legolas to suspect his feelings, therefore he pretended that the wind had been knocked out of him. “You hit me quite hard, my friend,” he said, trying to make a joke of it. “Some of your strength must be returning. That is heartening.”

“I do not feel at all like myself,” said Legolas wearily. “But I am heartened to feel my strength returning. I think I would like to bathe now and then you can take me to find the rangers. I want to speak with Ilfrith and my other kinsmen as soon as possible. After that we must set out to find Aragorn.”

“Very well,” said Elrohir, and leapt to his feet, reaching down to help pull Legolas to a standing position. Both Elves were slightly aroused and too embarrassed about it to say anything to each other. In fact, neither would look at each other except for brief glances.

Elrohir decided that he would abandon his plan for the time being to take Legolas to Rivendell. He could see that the Mirkwood Elf was committed to making a search for Aragorn and also wanted to protect his kinswoman. And Elrohir knew that he had made a private, heartfelt commitment to Legolas. He would do anything that the Mirkwood Elf asked of him, yet he knew nothing of Legolas’ feelings about him.

Elrohir took firm hold of Legolas’ arm and led him into the stream, helping him to sit down in the cool water. He left the blond Elf momentarily in order to retrieve the bottle of soap he had left nearby. When Elrohir returned Legolas was looking down at his legs in the muddy creek bed and seemed to be deep in thought.

Elrohir settled himself into the creek, kneeling in front of Legolas and carefully examined the prince’s dirty hair. “Can you bend down and let me pour some water over your head?” he asked.

Legolas did so, bending his supple back so that he could hug his knees to his chest. Elrohir cupped his hands and made a bowl with which to scoop a quantity of water. He poured this over Legolas’ head, and another, until the prince’s hair was soaked. Then Elrohir poured some soap into his hands and began to massage it into Legolas’ hair. He spent quite a bit of time on Legolas’ tresses, rubbing the soap into his scalp, trying to remove every bit of grime, remembering how well-arranged Legolas usually kept his long flaxen locks. He twined his fingers into Legolas’ hair, untangling the knots and smoothing it out as best he could.

“Legolas, could you please lie back in the water to let the soap rinse away? I will wash your—body now, and look at your wounds, if that would be permissible,” he said, his voice husky.

Legolas nodded, biting his lower lip. He did not say anything, but Elrohir took his actions to mean that he had given his permission.

“Please close your eyes,” Elrohir said firmly. ‘Oh, Gods,’ he thought silently. ‘The act of soaping his hair alone has caused me to feel aroused, and now I must wash him. It will be most difficult to keep my feelings hidden from him.’

Legolas did as he was bid, looking too tired and lost in his own thought to protest, and lay back in the water, his blond hair floating about his face and shoulders like the tendrils of a pale yellow underwater flower. Elrohir suppressed a gasp, gazing upon the full glory of Legolas’ beauty. However, his attention was quickly drawn to the deep gashes, partially healed, along Legolas’ side. They looked like marks from a flogging. The blond Elf was painfully thin as well, his ribs prominent through his pale skin. There were abrasions on his wrists and ankles from the chafing of the chains that had bound him to the cave wall. Elrohir squirted some soap into a trembling hand and began to massage it onto Legolas’ chest.

The Mirkwood Elf gasped slightly when Elrohir’s strong hand touched his body and began to lather soap upon it. When Elrohir began his massage, Legolas sighed and let his body relax. Elrohir continued to apply comforting strokes to his shoulders and chest.

“Turn over now, Legolas, if you can,” Elrohir whispered. Legolas complied and Elrohir gasped at the sight of more deep marks on his back that must have been painful. “You have been flogged!” he exclaimed.

Legolas propped his chin on his hands and opened his eyes. “Yes,” he said. “Only once, though. I think it was punishment for fighting them and maiming a few of the creatures. After Aragorn told me to stop fighting them, I did and they did not flog me again. But they did keep me a prisoner chained to the wall, and occasionally when I struggled they would beat me with sticks. They did not chain Aragorn.”

“Did they do anything else to you, Legolas?” asked Elrohir in a hesitant voice. He dreaded to think of any form of torture being done to this Elf.

“No,” said Legolas. “They kept me chained but they fed me.”

Elrohir continued soaping Legolas’s body, moving from his back down to his buttocks, touching them only briefly as his hands continued down the smooth lengths of Legolas’ slender legs. He bit his lip as he gazed upon the prince’s form. “Legolas, excuse me,” he said suddenly in a hoarse voice, and rose to his feet. “I will be back in a moment.” He stalked to some nearby trees and quickly disappeared.

Legolas turned over in the stream, enjoying the feel of the cool, fresh water rippling over his body with its gentle, cascading waves. He sighed, and put down a hand to still his own stirring flesh.

When Elrohir returned from the trees he walked immediately to his clothing and pulled on his underwear. “You can wear my light tunic, pants and keep my cloak,” he told Legolas tersely. “I shall wear the rest,” and he began to separate the clothing into two piles.

“It is generous of you to share your clothing with me,” said Legolas, struggling to pull himself out of the water.

Elrohir moved quickly to his side and taking Legolas’ hands in his, he pulled him to a standing position. He was awed by the prince’s graceful beauty. It was in such contrast to his strength as a warrior. Elrohir knew how deadly Legolas could be, from tales told among others of the Mirkwood prince’s feats and abilities, but one would never have thought it from his appearance at this time. He was pale, thin and weak, but quite stunningly beautiful. His pale gold hair lay wet down his back, falling to his waist. His face was hauntingly lovely, an unfathomable expression of pain in his eyes, the hollows in his cheeks giving his appearance an ethereal quality.

Leaning upon Elrohir for support, Legolas climbed out of the water and up the grassy bank to where the dark-haired Elf had placed the clothing. He pulled on the pants and stretched the tunic over his head.

Elrohir wanted to be able to converse with Legolas without distraction about both Aragorn and Ilfrith. “How do you fare now, Legolas?” he asked. “Do you feel some of your strength returning since your bath?”

Legolas sighed, sitting on the grass and adjusting the clothing that Elrohir had lent him. Elrohir was somewhat bigger than Legolas and taller as well. Legolas folded up the bottoms of the leggings to fit snugly on his calves and belted the tunic tightly around his waist. “I am feeling rather weary again, but much more refreshed. The cool water has tired me, though.” He gave his benefactor a brilliant smile.

Elrohir finished dressing in his black leather leggings and heavy grey tunic, and he picked up the fallen cloak from the ground. Placing it over Legolas’ shoulders, and lifting the blond hair up and over the hood so that it fell down the prince’s back, he remarked, “You look much better clean, mellon-nin. If you like, I will braid your hair for you. You look almost your old self again. I think another meal may help to further refresh you and after that you can take another nap if you like. Do you think you can walk back to the campsite without my help?”

“I shall try,” said Legolas through gritted teeth, willing his feet to take one step after another without stumbling. To Elrohir’s amazement, he managed to walk all the way back to camp without any support at all, before collapsing to the ground in front of the dying embers of the morning’s fire. He lay motionless with his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling with each breath, but to Elrohir he looked much better than before. He was beginning to get some of his determination back, as well as his coloring and physical strength.

Elrohir thought that this might be a good time to ask the questions that had been worrying him. “Do you mind if I continue our conversation now?” he enquired. He started to build a new fire, going to retrieve more kindling to add to the existing one.

“Yes, please, I would like that,” Legolas replied softly.

That reply puzzled Elrohir a little. He meant to continue the conversation about what happened to Legolas and Aragorn, and yet Legolas’ reply sounded as if he assumed the conversation would be a normal, pleasant one between friends, and something that he anticipated with pleasure. Elrohir sat down after he had seen to the fire and moved behind Legolas. He picked up three strands of Legolas’ hair, adjusting them to the same width, and began plaiting them.

“Do you think that Aragorn is traveling with those strange beings?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” said Legolas. “It is possible that they might take him with them wherever they go, if they were as curious about him as he was about them. Or they may have set him free. I doubt that they would harm him unless he gave them cause. He was peaceful and showed them that he was interested in learning about them.”

“They do not appear to use horses. What happened to yours?” asked Elrohir.

“I think that they must have set them free after they captured us,” Legolas replied. “Or perhaps Halbarad and Vëandur took them.”

“How many were there in the group of creatures that first captured you?” asked Elrohir. He placed a kettle of water on two sticks over the fire and began to toss chopped venison, vegetables and herbs into it.

“Twenty-five,” said Legolas. “Why?”

“There were fourteen on the hilltop when I found you,” said Elrohir. “However, there are now only twelve because I killed two of them.”

Legolas stared at Elrohir intently. “You did?” he asked, a look of surprised delight lighting up his face.

“Yes, I shot them. I had reason to believe that they had captured one of our company. Do you know Gilfanon of Rivendell?” Elrohir asked him. Legolas shook his head to indicate the negative.

Elrohir decided against telling him about Gilfanon’s relationship with Bethos for the present. “That means there must have been eleven still with Aragorn,” he said. “A group of the creatures attacked two of our people, Gilfanon and Bethos, near the Hoarwell River two days ago. I wish I had asked Bethos how many were in that group. Aragorn may have been with them and Gilfanon would have known him, but Bethos would not. The creatures took Gilfanon captive. How long ago were you captured?”

“Two weeks, approximately, although I cannot be sure,” said Legolas.

“Two weeks?” Elrohir sounded surprised. “But you and Aragorn have been gone six months!”

“Yes, we had been very busy clearing Orcs out of the area of Lake Evendim and the mountains north of The Shire. We were helped by some of the Dúnedain rangers, and we were on our way to the Icebay of Forochel when Aragorn and I were captured by those creatures and brought here.”

“Why were you going to the Ice Bay?” asked Elrohir in surprise.

“There were rumors of strange doings in that region, and we suspected that an army of Orcs was being assembled there. Many companies of Orcs have been seen traveling in that direction, according to the Dúnedain.”

“What happened to Halbarad and the Dúnedain?” asked Elrohir.

“We became separated,” said Legolas. “I do not know why they did not return to rescue us.”

“Perhaps they tried but could not find you. It may be that the creatures have been fleeing from the Orcs,” Elrohir said. “And that they are not in league with them. The rangers may have decided to go to the Icebay after all after not finding you. Perhaps they thought that you had been taken there.”

“Another thing about the creatures is that while some of them seem to be more aggressive—like warriors—there are others who appear to want to stay in the area of the caves—to set up home, if you will,” said Legolas.

Elrohir considered for a while what Legolas had told him. The food was now ready and he served up two bowls of stew and hot fresh-brewed tea, carrying it with care to the Mirkwood prince.

“Thank you. This smells delicious,” said Legolas in appreciation.

“That should soon have you feeling stronger,” said Elrohir, smiling at the compliment.

The two Elves sat talking and ate their meal. Elrohir could see that Legolas was tiring further. The prince’s shoulders were slumping and his eyelids drooped. When they had finished eating, Elrohir asked Legolas if he wanted to nap for awhile and the blond Elf agreed that he should do so. He retired inside the tent, leaving Elrohir sitting alone by the fire. When Legolas was out of sight, Elrohir buried his face in his hands.

‘Oh, Eru, I have feelings for him. What am I going to do about it?’ he asked himself. ‘There is an attraction that I feel is too strong to ignore, yet I cannot give in to it. I wonder if he has noticed. Better I should try to ignore it, perhaps, and let our more important affairs lead us away from an engagement that would be foolish and impossible to realize at this time.’

After spending a few moments sitting and thinking, he got up and went to retrieve his bow and arrows, and left the campsite to hunt for rabbits, while Legolas slept soundly in the tent.