Faded Light: Book II
folder
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
43
Views:
12,208
Reviews:
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Currently Reading:
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Category:
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
43
Views:
12,208
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. 2
(For additional notes and disclaimers, please see the top of Chapter 1.)
-...as promised the second part of this chapter, and the next one will be posted right after. Thank you to those reading and reviewing... -
Chapter 15
Burdens pt. 2
Once he had helped the prince into a warm bath and found him a set of clean clothes, Ruthlagor turned his attention back to the disordered room; he quickly stripped the ruined linen and blankets from the bed, making up his mind to quietly dispose of them later and gathered the broken fragments of the glass pitcher that had previously sat on the nightstand.
The prince’s nightclothes lay torn and discarded near the bed alongside a dark rag, the material too inferior in quality to have any place in a prince’s apartments...there was a stench on it, that was faintly familiar; even as he held it away from his face he found it slightly dizzying, and he realized with renewed horror it must have been the tool used to subdue the prince.
The room reasonably straightened, he stepped back into the hallway and headed for the healing wing. Even if Legolas continued to refuse a healer, he knew his injuries could not be left unattended.
Having obtained the needed supplies from a, thankfully, uninquisitive apprentice, he returned to the prince’s apartments, but the youth was nowhere to be found...instead, on his way back out the door, he found himself face to face with Legolas’ friend, Tadion.
“...good day, hir nin,” greeted the young elf, who never seemed to let the smile leave his fair face for long. Ruthlagor had always supposed it must be the fact he still had so few centuries behind him, being no more than a hundred or so years older than the prince. Yet, he had already been Vaurna’s chief apprentice for several dedades...
“Good day, Tadion,” he said, “were you looking for Prince Legolas?”
“Yes...we had plans to go riding this afternoon, but there is a healer needed in Dale. I’m going with Master Vaurna in a short while...
“I don’t think we’ll be back until late; I though I’d let his Highness know...”
“Legolas isn’t here. He...” but he found it was one of those rare occasions he wasn’t sure what he should say.
“Well, I’ll see him later then, if he’s busy...farewell, hir nin...”
“Tadion,” he called before the youth had finished turning away, “...do you think Vaurna could spare you for one more hour?” he asked, making up his mind though he knew Legolas would not be happy about it...
“Is someone injured?” asked the youth, noting the supplies Rughlagor had with him.
“First, I need you to swear you will be absolutely discreet in this,” he said, “you may not even tell Vaurna...”
“...upon my oath, I swear it. Who is it?”
The advisor hesitated for another second, making a quick judgment of the younger elf, “I have an idea where his Highness might be...
“Tula...”
The young healer a step behind, they went in search of the missing prince, finding him, as Ruthlagor had guessed, in his brother’s rooms, who was just then away on some extended errand of the king’s...
“...wait here for me,” he directed the perplexed youth before he could say anything else, closing the door behind him.
\\\\\\\\\\
“Highness...”
The prince wore a heavy sleeping robe, his damp golden hair loose over slumped shoulders; his fair skin was even paler than usual, and he seemed ready to collapse with every step. Never, had Ruthlagor thought to see Mirkwood’s proud prince looking so frail.
Fleetingly, he brought to his mind Legolas’ maternal uncle, Palanel, aptly named, who had been so fair and too fragile to endure the loss of his lover...
“...I couldn’t stay in my room right now,” said the youth, sitting carefully in a soft chair by the window, “every moment I’m there, I feel as if it is about to happen again...
“What is all that?” he asked anxiously, watching the advisor setting out the supplies he had gathered from the Healers’ on the dresser, his eyes alone revealing all the fear and pain he was desperate to mask.
“You were speaking with someone at the door,” it came out like an accusation.
“I ran into Tadion while I was looking for you,” said the older elf, deciding that stalling would not be in any way helpful, “he’s outside.
“...your injuries cannot go untreated,” he went on. “There may be damage...there was a good deal of blood on the linen...and...”
The prince’s eyes shot up at that, his pale complexion went a shade whiter before he turned his gaze away. “I’m fine...I have already told you...”
“You are not...your hands are shaking, you’re pale and you’re in pain...it is clear every time you move...”
“I do not need a healer...” he insisted.
“In any case, not all of the blood was mine,” he whispered, his eyes still on the floor. “He did not take me easily...the water pitcher beside the bed...it broke...I think I cut him...”
“Legolas...”
But his gaze had grown distant to something he alone could see, and he barely seemed to hear his uncle. “He’ll have wounds of his own...but it wasn’t enough...”
The advisor took a step toward the prince, and watched as he came out of his trance and instantly drew back, detachment replaced by despair and near panic...
“I said no...don’t you understand?” he stood too quickly taking several steps back and suddenly stopped, his face going white again with the pain...having moved too fast...
“I can’t see anyone right now...I can't stand anyone touching me...” two more steps backward, and the back of his legs hit the edge of the bed...
Ruthlagor had feared the prince would break down again but then he seemed to gather his strength once more. His face wavered between several different emotions before he seemed to push everything back and it settled into an eerie composure that did not totally mask the pain...
“My prince...”
The younger elf jumped at the sound of his uncle’s voice, as if he had been so lost he had forgotten there was another in the room. “I’m fine,” he said again, but there was far less conviction in it...
As gently as he could so as not to startle him again, Ruthlagor helped him back to his chair before placing something in his hands...
The youth looked suspiciously into the cup, “What is it?”
“It will help you sleep.”
“I don’t want to sleep,” he protested,“ every time I close my eyes, he’s still there...”
“Lasto!
“You will drink this and you will allow Tadion to take care of your wounds...I know this is difficult, but it must be done. And then, you will rest...it will probably help more than anything...”
He took a cautious sniff at the cup’s contents and made a face. “Is this one of Vaurna’s teas...?”
“Worse,” the elder tried to smile, “It’s one of your grandmother’s recipes.”
“Queen Gailrin?”
The advisor shook his head. “Hiril Elanor.”
“Oh.”
“She was well known during the Second Age for her lore among the woodelves,” he said, “trying to divert the prince’s attention if for just a moment. “It was long before Oropher and Gailrin reigned.”
“I have heard such things. But that is all that is ever said of her.
"Did she sail?”
He shook his head sadly, “She died bearing your uncle Palanel.
“I think it is still a painful subject for your grandfather,” he went on, “but ask Mereniel sometime. She knew Elanor better than almost anyone still on Middle Earth...”
The prince met his uncle’s eyes as he made himself drink down the bitter tea and handed the cup back. “I really don’t...”
“I know those scratches on your back can’t be comfortable. At least let Tadion take a look...then you can sleep...”
“...I thought you didn’t like Tadion...”
“I have no opinion on Tadion. But I know he is your friend, and Vaurna thinks highly of him among his students...”
He took a deep breath, “But I shall leave it up to you highness; you know him better than I...if you doubt either his skills or his discretion, I’ll send him away...”
“I trust both,” the youth looked away and gave a resigned nod.
He said no more, playing absently with a loose string on his sleeve while Rughlagor went to the door and spoke quietly with Tadion for a moment before the young healer stepped fully into the room...
Seeing the prince’s state, he moved cautiously to his side and knelt beside his chair. “Legolas?”
He gently pushed aside a loose strand of hair that had fallen over his eyes and didn’t miss the prince’s automatic flinch at the slight touch.
Fortunately, the young elf was perceptive enough to have figured out what had taken place without requiring an explanation. “It’s alright, melon nin,” he spoke softly, “you know you can trust me.
“I won’t do anything you do not wish...I’m only going take a look...”
Cautiously taking the prince’s hands, he searched with a trained eye for less noticeable bruises that what had been obvious to Ruthlagor. He carefully lifted the sleeves of Legolas’ robe and inspected the deep marks on his forearms before slowly rotating the prince’s right wrist, stopping when the prince winced in pain, “...it’s not broken,” he said after a moment finishing, his examination, “but it might feel better if it’s wrapped for a day or two...
“I need to look at those other bruises now, Highness,” he said, “is it alright if I touch your face...?”
...at a hesitant nod he raised the prince’s head and slowly turned his face to get a better look at the damage, before examining the marks on his throat.
“...are you hurt anywhere else, melon?” Still not receiving any response from the prince he turned questioningly to Ruthlagor who had stood in silence while Tadion did his initial assessment...
“There are other bruises, mainly on his back, on his upper arms as well...I don’t know if there are more...”
The prince turned further away at the words, his pale face darkening to several shades of red.
“I expect his Highness would be more comfortable, if I allowed you some privacy,” suggested the elder elf, “send for me if you need anything...
“And remember, Tadion, not a word of this outside this room...” he charged before leaving the prince in the young healer’s care...it was not yet noon, but already it had felt like the longest day Ruthlagor could remember in many centuries...
TBC...
Hir nin / my lord
Tula / come
Palanel / Distant Star
Lasto / listen
Hiril/ lady
Melon nin / my friend
-...as promised the second part of this chapter, and the next one will be posted right after. Thank you to those reading and reviewing... -
Burdens pt. 2
Once he had helped the prince into a warm bath and found him a set of clean clothes, Ruthlagor turned his attention back to the disordered room; he quickly stripped the ruined linen and blankets from the bed, making up his mind to quietly dispose of them later and gathered the broken fragments of the glass pitcher that had previously sat on the nightstand.
The prince’s nightclothes lay torn and discarded near the bed alongside a dark rag, the material too inferior in quality to have any place in a prince’s apartments...there was a stench on it, that was faintly familiar; even as he held it away from his face he found it slightly dizzying, and he realized with renewed horror it must have been the tool used to subdue the prince.
The room reasonably straightened, he stepped back into the hallway and headed for the healing wing. Even if Legolas continued to refuse a healer, he knew his injuries could not be left unattended.
Having obtained the needed supplies from a, thankfully, uninquisitive apprentice, he returned to the prince’s apartments, but the youth was nowhere to be found...instead, on his way back out the door, he found himself face to face with Legolas’ friend, Tadion.
“...good day, hir nin,” greeted the young elf, who never seemed to let the smile leave his fair face for long. Ruthlagor had always supposed it must be the fact he still had so few centuries behind him, being no more than a hundred or so years older than the prince. Yet, he had already been Vaurna’s chief apprentice for several dedades...
“Good day, Tadion,” he said, “were you looking for Prince Legolas?”
“Yes...we had plans to go riding this afternoon, but there is a healer needed in Dale. I’m going with Master Vaurna in a short while...
“I don’t think we’ll be back until late; I though I’d let his Highness know...”
“Legolas isn’t here. He...” but he found it was one of those rare occasions he wasn’t sure what he should say.
“Well, I’ll see him later then, if he’s busy...farewell, hir nin...”
“Tadion,” he called before the youth had finished turning away, “...do you think Vaurna could spare you for one more hour?” he asked, making up his mind though he knew Legolas would not be happy about it...
“Is someone injured?” asked the youth, noting the supplies Rughlagor had with him.
“First, I need you to swear you will be absolutely discreet in this,” he said, “you may not even tell Vaurna...”
“...upon my oath, I swear it. Who is it?”
The advisor hesitated for another second, making a quick judgment of the younger elf, “I have an idea where his Highness might be...
“Tula...”
The young healer a step behind, they went in search of the missing prince, finding him, as Ruthlagor had guessed, in his brother’s rooms, who was just then away on some extended errand of the king’s...
“...wait here for me,” he directed the perplexed youth before he could say anything else, closing the door behind him.
\\\\\\\\\\
“Highness...”
The prince wore a heavy sleeping robe, his damp golden hair loose over slumped shoulders; his fair skin was even paler than usual, and he seemed ready to collapse with every step. Never, had Ruthlagor thought to see Mirkwood’s proud prince looking so frail.
Fleetingly, he brought to his mind Legolas’ maternal uncle, Palanel, aptly named, who had been so fair and too fragile to endure the loss of his lover...
“...I couldn’t stay in my room right now,” said the youth, sitting carefully in a soft chair by the window, “every moment I’m there, I feel as if it is about to happen again...
“What is all that?” he asked anxiously, watching the advisor setting out the supplies he had gathered from the Healers’ on the dresser, his eyes alone revealing all the fear and pain he was desperate to mask.
“You were speaking with someone at the door,” it came out like an accusation.
“I ran into Tadion while I was looking for you,” said the older elf, deciding that stalling would not be in any way helpful, “he’s outside.
“...your injuries cannot go untreated,” he went on. “There may be damage...there was a good deal of blood on the linen...and...”
The prince’s eyes shot up at that, his pale complexion went a shade whiter before he turned his gaze away. “I’m fine...I have already told you...”
“You are not...your hands are shaking, you’re pale and you’re in pain...it is clear every time you move...”
“I do not need a healer...” he insisted.
“In any case, not all of the blood was mine,” he whispered, his eyes still on the floor. “He did not take me easily...the water pitcher beside the bed...it broke...I think I cut him...”
“Legolas...”
But his gaze had grown distant to something he alone could see, and he barely seemed to hear his uncle. “He’ll have wounds of his own...but it wasn’t enough...”
The advisor took a step toward the prince, and watched as he came out of his trance and instantly drew back, detachment replaced by despair and near panic...
“I said no...don’t you understand?” he stood too quickly taking several steps back and suddenly stopped, his face going white again with the pain...having moved too fast...
“I can’t see anyone right now...I can't stand anyone touching me...” two more steps backward, and the back of his legs hit the edge of the bed...
Ruthlagor had feared the prince would break down again but then he seemed to gather his strength once more. His face wavered between several different emotions before he seemed to push everything back and it settled into an eerie composure that did not totally mask the pain...
“My prince...”
The younger elf jumped at the sound of his uncle’s voice, as if he had been so lost he had forgotten there was another in the room. “I’m fine,” he said again, but there was far less conviction in it...
As gently as he could so as not to startle him again, Ruthlagor helped him back to his chair before placing something in his hands...
The youth looked suspiciously into the cup, “What is it?”
“It will help you sleep.”
“I don’t want to sleep,” he protested,“ every time I close my eyes, he’s still there...”
“Lasto!
“You will drink this and you will allow Tadion to take care of your wounds...I know this is difficult, but it must be done. And then, you will rest...it will probably help more than anything...”
He took a cautious sniff at the cup’s contents and made a face. “Is this one of Vaurna’s teas...?”
“Worse,” the elder tried to smile, “It’s one of your grandmother’s recipes.”
“Queen Gailrin?”
The advisor shook his head. “Hiril Elanor.”
“Oh.”
“She was well known during the Second Age for her lore among the woodelves,” he said, “trying to divert the prince’s attention if for just a moment. “It was long before Oropher and Gailrin reigned.”
“I have heard such things. But that is all that is ever said of her.
"Did she sail?”
He shook his head sadly, “She died bearing your uncle Palanel.
“I think it is still a painful subject for your grandfather,” he went on, “but ask Mereniel sometime. She knew Elanor better than almost anyone still on Middle Earth...”
The prince met his uncle’s eyes as he made himself drink down the bitter tea and handed the cup back. “I really don’t...”
“I know those scratches on your back can’t be comfortable. At least let Tadion take a look...then you can sleep...”
“...I thought you didn’t like Tadion...”
“I have no opinion on Tadion. But I know he is your friend, and Vaurna thinks highly of him among his students...”
He took a deep breath, “But I shall leave it up to you highness; you know him better than I...if you doubt either his skills or his discretion, I’ll send him away...”
“I trust both,” the youth looked away and gave a resigned nod.
He said no more, playing absently with a loose string on his sleeve while Rughlagor went to the door and spoke quietly with Tadion for a moment before the young healer stepped fully into the room...
Seeing the prince’s state, he moved cautiously to his side and knelt beside his chair. “Legolas?”
He gently pushed aside a loose strand of hair that had fallen over his eyes and didn’t miss the prince’s automatic flinch at the slight touch.
Fortunately, the young elf was perceptive enough to have figured out what had taken place without requiring an explanation. “It’s alright, melon nin,” he spoke softly, “you know you can trust me.
“I won’t do anything you do not wish...I’m only going take a look...”
Cautiously taking the prince’s hands, he searched with a trained eye for less noticeable bruises that what had been obvious to Ruthlagor. He carefully lifted the sleeves of Legolas’ robe and inspected the deep marks on his forearms before slowly rotating the prince’s right wrist, stopping when the prince winced in pain, “...it’s not broken,” he said after a moment finishing, his examination, “but it might feel better if it’s wrapped for a day or two...
“I need to look at those other bruises now, Highness,” he said, “is it alright if I touch your face...?”
...at a hesitant nod he raised the prince’s head and slowly turned his face to get a better look at the damage, before examining the marks on his throat.
“...are you hurt anywhere else, melon?” Still not receiving any response from the prince he turned questioningly to Ruthlagor who had stood in silence while Tadion did his initial assessment...
“There are other bruises, mainly on his back, on his upper arms as well...I don’t know if there are more...”
The prince turned further away at the words, his pale face darkening to several shades of red.
“I expect his Highness would be more comfortable, if I allowed you some privacy,” suggested the elder elf, “send for me if you need anything...
“And remember, Tadion, not a word of this outside this room...” he charged before leaving the prince in the young healer’s care...it was not yet noon, but already it had felt like the longest day Ruthlagor could remember in many centuries...
TBC...
Hir nin / my lord
Tula / come
Palanel / Distant Star
Lasto / listen
Hiril/ lady
Melon nin / my friend