Voices In The Dark

Title: Voices In The Dark

A/N: By this point you should know the drill...
Read as you like, Review as you will.
All are Tolkien's, but with my little twist.
Love those elves! Happiness is!
Thanks to Linauri for betaing!


Chapter Fourteen: Apologies and Dreams


He made it through dinner that evening in one piece, managing to somehow retain a maddeningly tight control of his own mind through the tiring affair. Master Saeldis was once again absent, to his great relief. Something was happening there that he didn't like, and thoughts of his latest dream still unnerved him, even as he sought to push the disturbing visions from his mind. Yet the dreams wouldn't be denied, for the memories continued to seek release, no matter how hard he ignored them.

Elrond showed him no greater attention than before, which seemed to reassure Legolas that Glorfindel had spoken the truth and said nothing to the Imladrian Lord. His esteem for the golden-haired Elda increased, although he still didn't know what to make of it, or what motivations might be behind his kind regard. Trust was an unfamiliar emotion, and yet here he was being confronted by that very feeling. It scared him, and he found himself wishing he could run and hide from everyone; to dig a deep pit and bury himself so he didn't have to face the inevitable.

After a somewhat pleasant dinner Legolas took Glorfindel's advice, catching the elven twins in the corridor as they were leaving the dinning hall. They had been discussing plans for an upcoming scouting mission when he approached, and Legolas felt a pang of homesickness, wishing he were once more in the field, fighting in defense of his home, instead of here doing nothing. At least in the solitude of his forests, surrounded by comrades well used to his strange quirks, he needn't be in constant fear of discovery.

Elrohir noticed the younger elf's approach first, pausing in his conversation with a curious look directed his way.

"I wish to apologize for my actions earlier," Legolas told them bluntly, looking genuinely contrite. Even though he couldn't recall all of what happened, he still felt remorse over the situation. It was his body, and he felt he needed to keep better control over his actions, whether those actions were actually his or not. "I wasn't thinking, and overreacted."

Elrohir glanced over at his brother, who snorted dryly but held his tongue.

"We all have our moments, and no harm was done," Elrohir responded with a pleasant smile. He still held no ill feelings towards the Mirkwood elf, and was glad to see he was still willing to approach them after what had happened. He had been planning to pull Legolas aside for his own apology, had the elf not come to them first.

"I should not have pushed so hard when it was obvious you did not desire to come," Elrohir continued, "or touched you without permission."

Legolas nodded, looking somewhat relieved. "Thank you. If all is well between us then...?"

Elladan still didn't look entirely comfortable, and Legolas couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking. Did he know something? After shifting slightly from one foot to the other in uncertainty, he then turned to leave. Elrohir noted the lingering nervousness, and looking over at his brother in question, saw the calculating look on Elladan's face. He gave his twin a slight shove, which happened to be on his bad arm, and caused him to release a pained grunt in reaction. The calculating look was replaced with one of indignance, then contrition, yet before he could say anything they were interrupted by a familiar voice calling them from further down the corridor.

"Legolas! Elladan! Elrohir!" Laurerána strode up to them, a hopeful smile on her face, and forcing Legolas to stop and acknowledge her. "It is good to find you, and together as well, for it will make my duty all the easier."

She paused upon reaching them, her smile slipping only slightly. "I am not interrupting, am I?"

"Not at all," Elladan replied quickly, and Elrohir couldn't help but smile at the look on his brother's face. Only Elladan would fall for such a fearsome she-elf. He had been grumbling all day over Laurerána's faults; she was too energetic, too vicious, too forward, and yet a strong sense of admiration threaded through all the complaints, and Elrohir knew his brother was smitten.

"Ah, that is well," she continued, eyeing Elladan as a cat would a mouse, "You're shoulder...?"

"It is nothing," Elladan replied, throwing a quick, piercing glance in his brother's direction. "It scarcely pains me at all."

Elrohir had to fight not to laugh. He looked over at Legolas to see if the other elf noticed his second's regard. Only a faint quirk of the lips showed his amusement over the matter, but upon catching the Mirkwood elf's eye, he noted the glint of humor shining in the twilight orbs. For a moment they shared the feeling of silent joviality, and Elrohir couldn't help but feel that this silent sharing could be the beginning of an easier relationship with the Mirkwood prince.

"A large group of us are meeting in the red gardens for a bit of light revelry." Laurerána told them, finally looking away from Elladan. "There will be music, storytelling, and the like. Come and join us if you wish."

"Certainly," Elladan replied, and Elrohir nodded as well.

"I think I will decline," Legolas said, taking a single step back. "I had planned to retire early tonight."

"Oh, please come for a short while," Laurerána pleaded. "It has been a long time since you have granted us the pleasure of your songs. Your voice has been missed."

Elrohir looked back at Legolas, one eyebrow raised in question. "You sing?"

"I do not," he frowned. "I can recall very few songs, and have no voice for it."


Laurerána laughed and turned to look at Elrohir, her eyes glinting with merriment. "This is what he always says, yet we all know better. He has a beautiful voice. Even the trees cease their whispering to listen."

Legolas felt both uncomfortable and confused. He could not recall ever singing before to anyone. When he was alone he occasionally found himself humming one or two simple melodies, however it was rarely when any could hear. While once he might have thought Laurerána to be playing games with him, he knew it wasn't so. She and the others may have well heard songs emerging from his throat, but it certainly wasn't him she had been listening to.

Elrohir noticed Legolas’ discomfort, and sought to assuage it. "If you do not wish to sing, none will force you to it, although it would be pleasant if you would come."

For a moment he hesitated while the others waited expectantly. Glorfindel's words earlier had bolstered some of his courage, and he knew well that the Mirkwood elves would be there. Yet while it might be nice to unwind in the company of others, could he ever truly relax? He knew that going would just give the spirits haunting him another chance to take over, and worse while in the company of others. After the inadvertent attack on Elrohir, he was trying desperately to keep the spirits in close rein, and didn't trust himself entirely around others. It was that thought which finally decided him.

"Perhaps another time," he told them, forcing a smile to reassure them his withdrawal was nothing of their doing. Before they could continue to attempt to persuade him, he turned and walked away. Sometimes to retreat was the easiest recourse, and he didn't stop until he reached the safety of his rooms.



* * *


The elfling crouched in the crook of a mighty oak, silent and wary. His knees were drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around his bent legs, head bent down to hide his face. He almost seemed a part of the living tree, so still did he sit. From below his body was invisible, the heavy branches and thick foliage screening any view of his long time hiding place. Even if someone had climbed the old, knotted tree, they might not see him, so well was he concealed.

It was no child's game he was playing however. Fear knotted his insides, and he held back the persistent tears lest even the sound of them falling give him away. Master Saeldis was somewhere out there looking for him, to punish for something he'd done. He couldn't recall what had happened, something about a dead fish, but he knew he hadn't done it. Not that it mattered. No one would believe him anyway, and he would still be punished.

"Legolas! Where are you?" He recognized the deeper voice being that of his father, and was surprised that the King was actually out looking for him. He was usually too busy struggling to protect his kingdom to pay the young elfling much attention.

With surprising speed he unfurled his small body and scrambled down out of the tree. He could see his father's tall figure a little ways off, searching in the opposite direction.

"Ada!" The elfing called, running eagerly towards his father. The king turned, a look of relief on his face. He dropped down to one knee as the small child barreled into him, then lifted him up into his arms.


"Legolas! Where have you been?" Thranduil asked, a hint of anger showing in his voice. "You worried us all running away like that."

Legolas buried his face into his father's long, golden hair, breathing in the scent of sandalwood and cedar. "I'm sorry," he murmured, holding onto his father tightly.

"Master Saeldis is quite angry with you," Thranduil told the elfling as they walked back towards the palace. "Hiding that dead rock-eel in his satchel was a very wicked thing to do. His papers are ruined, all his quills will have to be thrown out because they smell of fish, and the satchel itself was a gift and not easily replaced."

Legolas raised his head to look directly at his father, a familiar stubborn look crossing his small, angular features. "I didn't do it."

"If you did not, then who did?" Thranduil asked, looking genuinely curious.

"Elanor."

Thranduil suddenly looked weary, closing his eyes and shaking his head as he let out a heavy sigh. "Elanor does not exist, Legolas. There is no such elf."

"But she did it!"

"I do not know what to do with you. First you pull that prank on your tutor, then you run away, worrying us all, and now you lie about it."

"But ada-"

"No Legolas," Thranuil firmly admonished. "I don't want to hear about it. I'm taking you back to Master Saeldis and you are to apologize. I'm sure he will find a fitting punishment for your actions."

"No ada! I don't want to go! I hate him!" The elfling cried, his eyes widening with fear.

"I do not have time for this." Thranduil frowned. "You don't hate him."

"Yes I do! He hurts me!"

"A few paddles across the backside will not injure you, and if you would keep out of trouble, perhaps he would not have to be so strict."

A fairly nondescript looking page came running up bearing a message clenched in one hand, interrupting the father and son in their talk.

"My King! Reports are in from the southern border!" He handed Thranduil the missive, who received it with a frown.

"Thank you." He turned to Legolas as the page hurried away. "I must get back to the council room. But first I am returning you to your tutor. I want no more word from you about it."

He lowered his son to the ground and, holding the elfling's small hand tightly, walked him back to the rooms set aside for teaching the young princes of Mirkwood. Legolas didn't speak, but dragged his feet, hiding behind his father as they entered the stone room. Saeldis was waiting just inside, while the offending satchel lay on the desk, the smell of overripe fish emanating from its depths.

"Ah. You found him," Master Saeldis spoke upon seeing his young charge standing warily behind his father.

"He was in the gardens," Thranduil nodded, then pushed his son forwards. "I believe he has something to say."

Legolas looked down at the marble floor, his hands clenched tightly behind him. "I'm sorry," he murmured, certainly not feeling the words. Yet it was what his father wanted, and he would follow his orders.

He could hear Thranduil sigh heavily behind him, and he flinched slightly.

Thranduil looked to the tutor. "I have some urgent business to attend to. He is yours to punish as you see fit."

"Yes, Majesty," Master Saeldis bowed, and both the tutor and the prince watched as their king hurried away. Then Saeldis turned to look upon the elfling with a thoughtful look, and Legolas couldn't suppress the shiver that raced down his spine.

"Shut the door," he said quietly, then turned and walked to his desk. Legolas hesitated only a moment before following orders. There was no point in running now. He was caught, and would have to suffer the consequences.

"Come to me."

Again Legolas did as he was directed, stopping when he drew abreast of the large desk. The odor of fish seemed to grow more intense as he stood there, and he wrinkled his nose.

"Smells bad, does it not?" Saeldis queried, one side of his mouth twitching upwards in something that could be mistaken for a smile.

"Yes, hîr nín," Legolas responded.

"And now my things are ruined," Saeldis continued. "Not to mention the fact that you disturbed the King with your petty, cruel games. That alone should double your punishment."

Legolas didn't answer, but felt himself shrink away under the hostile gaze centered upon him. He knew what would come next, and his father had basically condoned it. For a moment he hated his father almost as much as he feared and hated his tutor.

"Behind the desk and lift your tunic," came the familiar command, and once again he hurried to do as he was bid. Somehow Master Saeldis had already found a leather strap to replace the one that now smelled of fish, and proceeded to use it liberally upon the bowed back of the elfling. The blows were methodical, rhythmic in their pulse, and once more he found himself biting his lip to hold in the pain until he tasted the sweet tang of blood across his tongue. When the blows finally stopped, he actually felt a moment of pride that he hadn't made the slightest noise.

"Stand up," came the command, and he felt a surge of relief that it was finally over.

"Now. Remove the fish." That seemed easy enough. He reached into the satchel with hands that shook only slightly and lifted out the offending creature. It's long, sinuous body was still slick, almost slimy in his fingers, and he found himself struggling not to drop it as the slowly decomposing flesh squished unpleasantly. It had no bones, and a round mouth that was comprised of several rows of small teeth. Sometimes rock-eel was cooked and prepared for guests, the fish considered something of a treat to visitors of the realm. Legolas never particularly liked it himself, the unusually strong flavor resting badly on his palate.

"Follow me." Master Saeldis turned and walked across the room to a door in the corner. It was a small storage closet. Legolas didn't like the room, its close confines stuffy and dark. Yet he followed his tutor as he was bid, still holding the malodorous rock-eel outstretched before him as far from his body as was possible.

Master Saeldis opened the door and gestured the elfling inside. He hesitated momentarily, becoming confused at the command. Why the closet? Shouldn't the fish be thrown away somewhere outside in one of the refuse piles? Yet he moved forwards into the tiny room, fear rising up the back of his throat as he did so.

"You are to remain in here while you consider your actions." Master Saeldis looked down at him, his face stern and cold, yet with a hint of malicious intent glinting in the depths of his stormy grayish-green eyes. "When I return, I expect to find that horrible thing has been disposed of by whatever means necessary."

And with those final words he shut the door, locking it with a firm click.

Legolas briefly stood motionless in the near dark, too stunned to do much else. The only source of light in the small space came from his own natural radiance, yet it was not enough for any elf to see by. He could feel the sticky, slimy fish in his hands and felt a shudder creep up his spine. The involuntary movement seemed to break him free of his shock, and without hesitation he threw the fish against one of the walls before crouching down, mindful of his back and backside still aching from the earlier strapping. The fish made a wet squelching sound as it struck the wall and then landed on the floor.

He knew there was no way out of this closet. He had been stuck here before, and had discovered the walls and door to be quite solid. Yet how was he to get rid of the fish before his tutor came back? It seemed to be an impossible task, and one that would assure more punishment when the tutor returned. Silent tears began to roll down his face, and wrapping his small arms about his legs he started to rock gently back and forth from his heels to his toes. Why did Elanor have to get him into trouble? He always ended up suffering the consequences for her pranks. No one believed him when he told them he didn't do it.

Suddenly he felt another's presence in the room with him. It was Oiolaire and he could see the sad, pale blue eyes in his mind, and felt himself being pulled away in response.

*I know what to do,* Oiolaire's small, hesitant voice spoke. Legolas watched as Oiolaire turned towards where the rock-eel had landed and skittishly crept towards it. His intentions were clear, and although Legolas knew it was the only way, he still watched in horror as the boy picked up the creature, tore off a fin, put it in his mouth with a grimace of distaste.

*Pease, don't let us do this,* Legolas begged to any who might hear.

*There is no other way,* came the reply from the boy. *We do this, and no more punishment.*

He felt sick, and turned away, unable to watch any longer as the spoiling carcass was slowly consumed.

Review Responses:

Yanic: Yeah! A new reviewer! I'm so glad you like this story! Thanks!

Zed: Sorry it isn't more action packed. I am trying, really I am, but I suppose my focus is more on the inner battles than outer at the moment. But there is progress being made: the building of trust is a major part of recovery, right?
Let's see: I have the next four chapters written already. (I'm trying to keep a bit ahead of myself, just in case) The next big step happens...... in the next chapter! (grin)
Your suggestion of putting some notes at the end of the chapter about Dissociative Identity Disorder has merit. I'm not exactly sure what people wish to know, and I'm definitely no expert on the matter, but I'll give it a try.


So for starters, here are a few interesting facts:
-"Multiple Personality Disorder patients report the highest rates of childhood physical, sexual, and other forms of abuse and trauma amongst those suffering from any known psychiatric disorder." ('Dissociation' by Steven Jay Lynn)
-It also seems that in most cases the victim has been repeatedly abused before the age of five.
-Those suffering from Dissociated Identity Disorder tend to have a predisposition for dissociation in the family.
-Recovery is possible, such as through drugs, hypnosis, or psychotherapy, but is not always successful, particularly for patients still enmeshed in an abusive relationship. (Don't worry though; I've promised to put Legolas back the way I found him. More or less...)