Faded Light: Book II
folder
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
43
Views:
12,207
Reviews:
46
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
43
Views:
12,207
Reviews:
46
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
Characters and places belong to JRR Tolkien and to his estate. I own only my OC's and twisted storylines.
Burdens Pt.1
(For additional notes and disclaimers, please see top of Chapter 1.)
- This one turned out to be the longest chapter I’ve written for this story, so it seemed a better idea to cut it into three parts.
It was not an easy one to write; most of it is another flashback about Legolas, and what was in that diary Feredir discovered back in chapter 28...I know a lot of you have wanted to know more about what happened to Legolas when he was younger, so here it is...(for those of you who haven't read Book I, some of this was hinted at in a couple of those chapters.)
About the flashback, I know it could have been written in the first person and worked well, since it is Ruthlagor telling the story, but I’m really bad at first person narration, so for anyone who’s a bit picky about style that’s the reason.
As I said, this is a 3-part chapter, so I will post part 2 and 3 by Friday of Saturday...
Ziggy3, thank you for your continued comments...and thanks in advance to everyone else reading; I hope you enjoy this one, I promise the rest of it will be up by the weekend... -
Chapter 14
Burdens pt. 1
“...Hir Ruthlagor, there is something I have wanted to speak to you about.”
“It is nothing grave, I hope,” said the older elf, judging by the preoccupied look on the face of the king’s son that something was deeply troubling him.
“I am not sure yet...I find myself in a difficult position since returning to Mirkwood, and I can think of no one but your lordship to help me resolve it."
"You know I will help you in any way I can, Feredir."
"Hannon le, hir nin.
"I have stumbled upon something, which duty requires I share with my father, but I know not whether there is any point in doing so now. Perhaps there would be more harm in it than letting it remain as it has. And there are yet facts I think I must finish deciphering before I go to the king at all.
"I was in my brother’s old rooms...and I happened upon this.”
“I did not know the prince kept a private journal," said the advisor, taking the small book Feredir pushed across the table and leafing through the first few pages as he saw what it was. "I only ever saw the one he kept for Mistress Randiriel in his school days.”
“I have marked some of the pages. If your lordship would not mind taking a look...”
Ruthlagor looked with some trepidation on the journal and turned to the places Feredir had previously read, his mind taken back to that unhappy time, from Legolas’ perspective...
“As you can see there are several pages missing...there is a story there, seemingly that your lordship alone was privy to."
When the elder Elf did not speak, Feredir continued, “It was enough to make him tear out those pages. I have been debating whether I should go to my father with this, but I thought I should first hear your lordship's account, if you have one...
“I spoke with Faervel, Legolas’ friend a few days ago, but in truth there was little he could add to what is in that journal...”
Ruthlagor closed the book and was silent for a long moment, unable to take his eyes off the slightly creased cover.
“The prince did not wish anyone to know, least of all your father...he practically threatened me when I suggested I would speak with the king...
“But I should have done so...it is the only oath I have ever regretted taking.”
“Then tell me now...what was so terrible my brother would be so desperate to hide it even from Adar. All of Legolas’ life there was never a secret between them that I knew of; at least not before…whatever this is...”
“There was a Man called Delos,” began the older elf lost in his own thoughts now, “who had served Mirkwood for a number of years. I had known several generations of his family, and he had never shown himself to be anything but reliable and loyal...
“You will remember that back then it was not unusual to use Men to help supplement Mirkwood’s defenses...
“After Legolas’ guard Nardol sailed, I had appointed Delos as his replacement...I thought nothing of Legolas' low opinion of Men.”
“Yes, I remember my brother complaining to me on several occasions about that. He had a deep distrust of Mortals...”
“Foresight, I would call it now. I should have listened and because I did not...I was the one who allowed it to happen, and I must forever bear my part of the blame.”
“What happened? What did this Delos do to my brother?” though Feredir feared he had already begun to guess from the journal and from all that Faervel and Rulthalagor had said what evil had befallen the prince.
He did remember Delos, but only vaguely; he supposed he had simply not paid much attention to the Man at the time except for his brother’s complaining.
Legolas would avoid Delos’ company if he could help it, and there had been two or three years then when Feredir was away from Mirkwood for several months at a time. The result of all of that being that he saw less of the prince’s bodyguard than he might have.
On one of Feredir’s returns home, Delos had finally been gone, his place taken by another warrior, but none of it had ever seemed important enough to give it more than a passing thought.
The advisor closed his eyes, wanting to force the memory away, as Legolas had pushed that night so far into the recesses of his mind that he had seemed to forget.
Slowly, he began to speak, telling what he knew, letting his thoughts take him back to those dark days...
==================================================
He had been the one to find him the morning after it happened...
It had been late, he remembered, and he was angry that Legolas had missed a council meeting as well as an early practice session with his weapon’s master though that was quite unlike the young prince, who was usually so much more responsible than many other adolescent elves of so few centuries…
Receiving no answer to his repeated knocking, he turned the door latch to discover it unaccountably unlocked and walked through the tidy sitting room to the bedchamber beyond...he found the prince, curled up on his side on the edge of his disordered bed; only a thin blanket covered him and his hands shook as he held his arms around himself, visible bruises stood out on his arms and some on his face, accompanied by a trail of dried tears, but his blue eyes remained completely unblinking and fixed to some spot on the far wall…
“Valar...”
He approached carefully further disturbed to see a good deal of blood on the tangled linen, and gently tried to shift the prince from his defensive position and discovered the violent black and red handprints on his throat.
“Highness…Legolas, look at me...” getting no response he began to move away again, deciding a healer was more qualified to deal with the situation and felt a slender hand grip his arm. The prince’s gaze remained blank, his voice when he spoke had gone hoarse, his tone so low Ruthlagor had to strain to hear, “...you can’t tell anyone...Saes...”
"My prince, you’re hurt...be still, I will return shortly with a...”
"Baw,” he shook his head vehemently, sitting up with obvious pain and finally turned his eyes on his uncle by marriage. “No healer...and you will keep this to yourself, do you hear me...?”
His grip on the advisor’s arm tightened, “No one else is to come in here. And you will tell no one about any of this,” his tone remained low and filled with desperation but bore all the resolve of a grandson of Oropher...
"There is nothing here that requires a healer’s attention...
“...now, help me to the washroom or else leave, before I retch all over your council robes.” He dropped the other's arm and pulled away, shutting his eyes tightly, as he drew the blanket more tightly around himself, and the fight seemed to go out of him.
“Highness...”
The younger elf pushed himself up and staggered across the room, taking the blanket with him, but Ruthlagor still got a good look at the damage marring different parts of his back and even a vicious hand-shaped bruise just beneath one shoulder...
He reached the younger elf as he slipped on unsteady legs and saw the pain on his face despite the brave front he was putting on, “...let me call Vaurna,” he insisted.
"I have told you there is nothing that concerns Vaurna,” he whispered, through clenched teeth. ”I need to bathe; that is all...I have to get clean...
“...stay or go...but you will say nothing about this...” he pulled away again almost violently and stumbled into his bathing chamber where a moment later, Ruthlagor could hear him heaving forcefully.
When he entered the washroom, he found the prince doubled over beside the wall, an unceasing trail of silent tears streamed down his down his face, trembling lips occasionally muttering something Ruthlagor could not at first make out, as deep uneven breaths shook his entire form.
Cautiously, Ruthlagor knelt in front of the prince mindful of coming too close yet and felt his heart breaking at the sight of such anguish from this young one he had known from elflinghood, appalled at the twisted lust that could commit such an act...Valar! some of the bruises on his arms looked like teeth marks...
“Legolas...”
The younger elf only flinched at the sound of his uncle’s voice, reaching up to wipe angrily at the tears falling over his bruised face, clutching desperately at the blanket, which was all that covered his nakedness. “Saes, let me be...”
"I won’t insist on sending for Vaurna, yet,” he said, as soothingly as he could. "Just let me help...”
The prince said nothing, but he did not resist his uncle's ministrations, as he gently wiped the tears and bile from his face with a damp cloth, being careful of the bruises, which were becoming darker now, as Legolas’ own systems began healing the damage...
“My prince, who was it...who did this...?”
The youth only drew his knees more tightly to his chest, again muttering inconsolably to himself “..it’s not true...it was a bad dream...it didn’t happen...it didn’t happen...it wasn’t real...it didn’t happen....”
“...dilthen pen...”
“Do not call me that...I am not a child...not anymore...” but he did not have the strength to argue as he finally collapsed into his uncle’s arms, shaking violently again and sobbing as if he could not stop, as he had not even when as an elfling he had lost his mother.
“...do not tell anyone...saes...saes...”
TBC...
Elvish Translations:
Hir / lord
Hir nin / my lord
Hannon le / Thank you
Baw / no
Saes / please
Dilthen Pen / little one
- This one turned out to be the longest chapter I’ve written for this story, so it seemed a better idea to cut it into three parts.
It was not an easy one to write; most of it is another flashback about Legolas, and what was in that diary Feredir discovered back in chapter 28...I know a lot of you have wanted to know more about what happened to Legolas when he was younger, so here it is...(for those of you who haven't read Book I, some of this was hinted at in a couple of those chapters.)
About the flashback, I know it could have been written in the first person and worked well, since it is Ruthlagor telling the story, but I’m really bad at first person narration, so for anyone who’s a bit picky about style that’s the reason.
As I said, this is a 3-part chapter, so I will post part 2 and 3 by Friday of Saturday...
Ziggy3, thank you for your continued comments...and thanks in advance to everyone else reading; I hope you enjoy this one, I promise the rest of it will be up by the weekend... -
Burdens pt. 1
“...Hir Ruthlagor, there is something I have wanted to speak to you about.”
“It is nothing grave, I hope,” said the older elf, judging by the preoccupied look on the face of the king’s son that something was deeply troubling him.
“I am not sure yet...I find myself in a difficult position since returning to Mirkwood, and I can think of no one but your lordship to help me resolve it."
"You know I will help you in any way I can, Feredir."
"Hannon le, hir nin.
"I have stumbled upon something, which duty requires I share with my father, but I know not whether there is any point in doing so now. Perhaps there would be more harm in it than letting it remain as it has. And there are yet facts I think I must finish deciphering before I go to the king at all.
"I was in my brother’s old rooms...and I happened upon this.”
“I did not know the prince kept a private journal," said the advisor, taking the small book Feredir pushed across the table and leafing through the first few pages as he saw what it was. "I only ever saw the one he kept for Mistress Randiriel in his school days.”
“I have marked some of the pages. If your lordship would not mind taking a look...”
Ruthlagor looked with some trepidation on the journal and turned to the places Feredir had previously read, his mind taken back to that unhappy time, from Legolas’ perspective...
“As you can see there are several pages missing...there is a story there, seemingly that your lordship alone was privy to."
When the elder Elf did not speak, Feredir continued, “It was enough to make him tear out those pages. I have been debating whether I should go to my father with this, but I thought I should first hear your lordship's account, if you have one...
“I spoke with Faervel, Legolas’ friend a few days ago, but in truth there was little he could add to what is in that journal...”
Ruthlagor closed the book and was silent for a long moment, unable to take his eyes off the slightly creased cover.
“The prince did not wish anyone to know, least of all your father...he practically threatened me when I suggested I would speak with the king...
“But I should have done so...it is the only oath I have ever regretted taking.”
“Then tell me now...what was so terrible my brother would be so desperate to hide it even from Adar. All of Legolas’ life there was never a secret between them that I knew of; at least not before…whatever this is...”
“There was a Man called Delos,” began the older elf lost in his own thoughts now, “who had served Mirkwood for a number of years. I had known several generations of his family, and he had never shown himself to be anything but reliable and loyal...
“You will remember that back then it was not unusual to use Men to help supplement Mirkwood’s defenses...
“After Legolas’ guard Nardol sailed, I had appointed Delos as his replacement...I thought nothing of Legolas' low opinion of Men.”
“Yes, I remember my brother complaining to me on several occasions about that. He had a deep distrust of Mortals...”
“Foresight, I would call it now. I should have listened and because I did not...I was the one who allowed it to happen, and I must forever bear my part of the blame.”
“What happened? What did this Delos do to my brother?” though Feredir feared he had already begun to guess from the journal and from all that Faervel and Rulthalagor had said what evil had befallen the prince.
He did remember Delos, but only vaguely; he supposed he had simply not paid much attention to the Man at the time except for his brother’s complaining.
Legolas would avoid Delos’ company if he could help it, and there had been two or three years then when Feredir was away from Mirkwood for several months at a time. The result of all of that being that he saw less of the prince’s bodyguard than he might have.
On one of Feredir’s returns home, Delos had finally been gone, his place taken by another warrior, but none of it had ever seemed important enough to give it more than a passing thought.
The advisor closed his eyes, wanting to force the memory away, as Legolas had pushed that night so far into the recesses of his mind that he had seemed to forget.
Slowly, he began to speak, telling what he knew, letting his thoughts take him back to those dark days...
==================================================
He had been the one to find him the morning after it happened...
It had been late, he remembered, and he was angry that Legolas had missed a council meeting as well as an early practice session with his weapon’s master though that was quite unlike the young prince, who was usually so much more responsible than many other adolescent elves of so few centuries…
Receiving no answer to his repeated knocking, he turned the door latch to discover it unaccountably unlocked and walked through the tidy sitting room to the bedchamber beyond...he found the prince, curled up on his side on the edge of his disordered bed; only a thin blanket covered him and his hands shook as he held his arms around himself, visible bruises stood out on his arms and some on his face, accompanied by a trail of dried tears, but his blue eyes remained completely unblinking and fixed to some spot on the far wall…
“Valar...”
He approached carefully further disturbed to see a good deal of blood on the tangled linen, and gently tried to shift the prince from his defensive position and discovered the violent black and red handprints on his throat.
“Highness…Legolas, look at me...” getting no response he began to move away again, deciding a healer was more qualified to deal with the situation and felt a slender hand grip his arm. The prince’s gaze remained blank, his voice when he spoke had gone hoarse, his tone so low Ruthlagor had to strain to hear, “...you can’t tell anyone...Saes...”
"My prince, you’re hurt...be still, I will return shortly with a...”
"Baw,” he shook his head vehemently, sitting up with obvious pain and finally turned his eyes on his uncle by marriage. “No healer...and you will keep this to yourself, do you hear me...?”
His grip on the advisor’s arm tightened, “No one else is to come in here. And you will tell no one about any of this,” his tone remained low and filled with desperation but bore all the resolve of a grandson of Oropher...
"There is nothing here that requires a healer’s attention...
“...now, help me to the washroom or else leave, before I retch all over your council robes.” He dropped the other's arm and pulled away, shutting his eyes tightly, as he drew the blanket more tightly around himself, and the fight seemed to go out of him.
“Highness...”
The younger elf pushed himself up and staggered across the room, taking the blanket with him, but Ruthlagor still got a good look at the damage marring different parts of his back and even a vicious hand-shaped bruise just beneath one shoulder...
He reached the younger elf as he slipped on unsteady legs and saw the pain on his face despite the brave front he was putting on, “...let me call Vaurna,” he insisted.
"I have told you there is nothing that concerns Vaurna,” he whispered, through clenched teeth. ”I need to bathe; that is all...I have to get clean...
“...stay or go...but you will say nothing about this...” he pulled away again almost violently and stumbled into his bathing chamber where a moment later, Ruthlagor could hear him heaving forcefully.
When he entered the washroom, he found the prince doubled over beside the wall, an unceasing trail of silent tears streamed down his down his face, trembling lips occasionally muttering something Ruthlagor could not at first make out, as deep uneven breaths shook his entire form.
Cautiously, Ruthlagor knelt in front of the prince mindful of coming too close yet and felt his heart breaking at the sight of such anguish from this young one he had known from elflinghood, appalled at the twisted lust that could commit such an act...Valar! some of the bruises on his arms looked like teeth marks...
“Legolas...”
The younger elf only flinched at the sound of his uncle’s voice, reaching up to wipe angrily at the tears falling over his bruised face, clutching desperately at the blanket, which was all that covered his nakedness. “Saes, let me be...”
"I won’t insist on sending for Vaurna, yet,” he said, as soothingly as he could. "Just let me help...”
The prince said nothing, but he did not resist his uncle's ministrations, as he gently wiped the tears and bile from his face with a damp cloth, being careful of the bruises, which were becoming darker now, as Legolas’ own systems began healing the damage...
“My prince, who was it...who did this...?”
The youth only drew his knees more tightly to his chest, again muttering inconsolably to himself “..it’s not true...it was a bad dream...it didn’t happen...it didn’t happen...it wasn’t real...it didn’t happen....”
“...dilthen pen...”
“Do not call me that...I am not a child...not anymore...” but he did not have the strength to argue as he finally collapsed into his uncle’s arms, shaking violently again and sobbing as if he could not stop, as he had not even when as an elfling he had lost his mother.
“...do not tell anyone...saes...saes...”
TBC...
Elvish Translations:
Hir / lord
Hir nin / my lord
Hannon le / Thank you
Baw / no
Saes / please
Dilthen Pen / little one