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 Fifteen: Nightmare's Discovery

Legolas suddenly bolted upright in his bed, the contents of his stomach rising dangerously. Even after so many years, the memory was so intense that he could even now taste the oily, putrid rock-eel suffusing his mouth. He scrambled out from the tangled mess of his blankets, oblivious to the figure standing at the door, and raced to the washroom as his stomach rebelled.

His entire body shook as he bent over the basin, the food he had eaten earlier in the evening making itself known once more. He was unable to stop the tears leaking from his eyes. It was real. It had all really happened. He knew with a clear certainty that it wasn't merely a dream, which meant the other nightmare was likely just as true.

That dismal thought caused his stomach to lurch further, bile rising once more to his already raw throat. It was then that he vaguely realized that he was no longer alone, but he didn't have the strength to care. Someone stood behind him, carefully holding his long hair away from his face and gently rubbing small, soothing circles across his back. No words were said, only the deep, soft murmur of a voice seeking to comfort the distraught elf.

At last he collapsed wearily against the washstand, drawing long, heavy breaths into his suddenly air-starved lungs. An arm snaked about his waist, keeping him from falling to the hard floor, and he instinctively sought to pull away.

"Shhh," came the soft voice from slightly behind him in the semi-darkness. "Let me help you."

The arm continued to hold him gently, but firmly, and he let the mysterious being lead him back to his disheveled bed. He couldn't help but notice the faint, pleasant scent of cedar that seemed to float about them as they walked, and breathed it in deeply as the dusky aroma seemed to calm both his mind and body.

He was gently lowered to the edge of his bed, before the arm released him and Legolas finally looked up. Several candles had been lit, providing a warm glow to the room. He watched as a tall elf with long, golden hair falling loosely down his back strode calmly back into the washroom. He was dressed in loose-fitting grey pants and a lightweight, midnight blue robe that flowed about his calves as he walked. After a moment he returned, a damp washcloth in his hand, and a look of quiet concern on his face.

"Why are you here?" Legolas finally asked, his voice sounding a bit rough even to his own ears.

Glorfindel answered calmly, handing him the soft, cool cloth. "I was up late, reading, and had decided to retrieve a late-night snack from the kitchens. I overheard you crying out in your sleep."

Legolas nodded, unable to quell the brief shudder as he remembered the nightmare. He somehow knew what had happened next. The whole fish had been consumed in that dark closet. Some of the teeth he had hidden in the hem of his tunic until he could dispose of them later. When he was finally released from his confinement, he recalled the look on Master Saeldis’ face was a mixture of disgusted approval. Studies had resumed after that, until Saeldis finally dismissed the listless elfling, who had returned to his rooms and proceeded to be violently ill.

He was troubled to realize that it was not a memory he had ever been aware of before. If all his lost periods of time had been filled with such torments, he really didn't wish to know. And yet, against his will, these memories were finally resurfacing, and at the worst possible time.

*Or perhaps this is the best time,* one of the voices within his mind reasoned. *Lord Elrond is here, and if anyone can help us overcome this, he can.*

With those words Legolas received the impression that things were far from over, and he knew that there was a very real possibility his life was in danger if things continued without outside intervention. Yet how could he tell anyone what was happening? Who would believe him?

He ran the cool cloth over his face. It felt good, as though through the gesture he was wiping away the last vivid scenes of his nightmare into distant memory. He looked up at Glorfindel, who stood watching him patiently with his ancient eyes, and paused. Here was one who might actually be trusted; someone who might actually believe him; someone who would listen objectively and calmly; someone of whom he might trust to speak the truth. He had seen the way Glorfindel interacted with his troops; he was respected as a leader as well as looked upon as a trusted comrade and friend.

Still the familiar reluctance gave him pause, warning him against trusting anyone. Too long had he lived in a sort of wary solitude. What if he was wrong? Such atrocities didn't happen amongst elves. He could afford to trust no one, not even himself.

Glorfindel watched the various emotions flit across the younger elf's face, and held back a sigh as it settled back onto the familiar look of guarded mistrust. He had been hopeful that this would be the moment that Legolas would finally release his fears and speak with him, but for now it looked as if it wasn't to be.

He stepped over to the nightstand where a pitcher of water stood and poured it into a nearby cup. This he handed to Legolas, who accepted it graciously, although with a touch of hesitance.

"I shall return momentarily," he told the elf, who was beginning to look much calmer than he had earlier. Not wanting to leave him alone for long, Glorfindel moved swiftly through the dark halls to the kitchens where he prepared a calming tea that would hopefully ease the younger elf into a more peaceful night's sleep.

Upon returning to Legolas’ rooms he discovered the elf still sitting in the same position he had left him in, but for the empty cup now resting beside the pitcher and the washcloth which he was absently twisting around his fingers. He looked up at Glorfindel's entrance, but was silent as the cloth was gently pulled from his grasp to be set aside and the warm drink pressed firmly into his hands.

"This should help you relax," Glorfindel told him, sitting in a nearby chair. "I have added a few herbs that will help you sleep."

"And what if I do not wish to sleep?" Legolas murmured softly, but Glorfindel's sharp ears caught the words regardless.

"Would you tell me of the dream?" Glorfindel asked, for once wishing Elrond were here. He was the healer after all, and would know better what to do in this situation.

Legolas sipped the slightly bitter tea, grateful for the generous addition of honey to make it more palatable. He wasn't sure if telling was such a good idea, at least about this nightmare. What could he say? That Master Saeldis did horrible things to him in his youth, and the dreams were actually memories just starting to return? That would bring up the question of why his memories were gone in the first place, and eventually that would mean revealing the existence of the other spirits dwelling in his mind. Not to mention the accusing of a well-respected elf of such despicable acts. That was, of course, assuming any would believe him in the first place. He would be discounted for certain.

Yet a part of him wanted to tell Glorfindel something, and he had shown himself to be trustworthy so far. He was being so attentive; he deserved some explanation for his troubles. So he found himself slowly starting to relate to the older elf the other dream that had haunted him so voraciously: the orc dream. As he did so he kept his head bowed, yet covertly watched for Glorfindel's reaction. The only part he kept silent on was the end, of the voice belonging to his former tutor and the insinuations made.

Glorfindel kept his face impassive as he listened to Legolas speak, although inside he felt something akin to horror. In appalling detail he was told of being chased through a desolate forest by a pack of elves, of being transformed into the foul visage of an orc, and of being cruelly beaten and tormented by his pursuers. It was all told with a sort of detachment, as if Legolas didn't feel the fear and pain he spoke of, yet his eyes held a haunted look that spoke differently. The orc transformation, the fear of the flame, it seemed obvious to Glorfindel that this dream was something that fed off his fear of the scars and the accident which caused them; the fear of discovery and condemnation for something that was never his fault. Or was it? He suddenly found himself interested in how the fire actually began and Legolas’ role in it. Was he hiding something, and if so, what?

After he finished with his telling there was a long silence with only the sounds of frogs singing from the distant river to break the quiet. Legolas swallowed the last of his cooling tea, still on edge despite the soothing effects of the herbs. His nervousness grew as the silence progressed, and as Glorfindel sought the right words to say that might comfort and reassure the younger elf. He sensed there was more that wasn't being told, but wasn't about to push. Merely the fact that Legolas had told him as much as he had was a sign of growing trust, and something he felt honored to have gained.

"There is nothing to fear," he finally said, knowing he had to say something, else the elf retreat back into his solitude. Once more he wished Elrond were here. He would know what to say in such a situation. He leaned forwards, his blue eyes capturing the wary gaze of the prince. He felt a strong urge to reach out and comfort him, but resisted, knowing such a gesture, however well intentioned, probably wouldn't be accepted. Not yet anyway.

"A horrible dream, but only a dream nonetheless." He continued. "How long has this been plaguing you?"

Legolas shrugged almost carelessly, breaking the gaze with a tired sigh, although if it was from the tea, or from emotion, Glorfindel couldn't say. "A long time, I suppose."

"Might it be the scars that brought this on?" Or something else...

Again he shrugged, looking past Glorfindel at something only he could see. The older elf shifted slightly, drawing Leoglas's gaze back so it rested once more upon him.

"You have nothing to fear," Glorfindel repeated. "None will harm you over such scars." A sudden thought struck him. As strange as it seemed, it seemed to fit with what he saw.

"You are not becoming an orc," he said emphatically, and received a startled look in response that said he had hit upon something important. It begged the question: where had he gotten that idea in the first place?

"Orcs were created by many centuries of abuse and torment at the hands of Morgoth and his minions." Glorfindel explained to him, trying hard to reassure the startled elf. "I don't believe you were ever put in such a position, or you would not be here now."

At the words 'abuse and torment' Legolas’ mind raced, and his fears only grew stronger while his confusion grew. Wasn't that what his mind was trying to tell him? He had indeed suffered, and not at the hands of a dark lord, but by someone else. What did it mean? Was he still to become some sort of hideous monster, or perhaps something just as terrible? His thoughts were becoming less ordered as the effects of the tea wore on, and connections which should have been there were slower in coming. Some of the voices were crying out in denial, with Aenos's voice being the strongest because he still refused to believe that any abuse had ever truly occurred.

Glorfindel watched as the younger elf's panic rose, his breathing becoming more pronounced as a sudden fear seemed to trap the air in his lungs. Against his earlier inner advice he quickly stood and moved until he was sitting beside Legolas. Something was happening here that he didn't understand, and didn't like. For a brief moment he actually felt a touch of fear, for there was certainly more going on than that which appeared on the surface. Indeed, perhaps this elf had been abused in some way, and his fears of becoming an orc had some basis on truth.

He reached out a hand and began caressing Legolas’ back in a comforting gesture, as he had earlier in the washroom. This time the elf resisted, shifting as if to bolt, and Glorfindel grasped his arm before he could do so. His fears that Legolas had been ill treated grew stronger.

"Relax," he said softly but firmly, still rubbing light circles over the younger elf's back. "Breathe slowly and deeply. I will NOT do anything to hurt you."

Eyeing him warily, Legolas stilled and began to concentrate on his breathing, though with minimal success despite the soft words of reassurance. He closed his eyes and found himself still wanting to trust the ancient Elda, yet pushing the idea though the walls of fear and distrust built up over the years was proving difficult. Elanor and Ravan were the strongest proponent for that trust, and the young elfling's voice could be heard loudest of all.

*I like Glorfindel,* Elanor told him eagerly, with Ravan quick to agree.

*Yes, he seems a fine elf,*

*I don't like him,* came a low growl.

*You do not like anyone,* Ravan pointed out calmly.

*So?*

*Well, I think he's nice,* Elanor countered, almost daringly.

*You only like him because he is fair to look upon!* Mórehua accused.

*I'm still scared," Oiolaire's voice put in. "What if he hurts us?*

*I tell you, you can't trust anyone.*

*He won't hurt us. He saw the scars, and said they were okay...*

*I don't understand,* was Aenos's quick response. *Why does he not pull away? Is he evil as well?*

*No! Can you not see? He is merely being kind. He wishes to help. Besides, he was sent back from the Halls of Mandos. Namo wouldn't release an evil soul.*

*Enough of this!* Fánehua shouted, and as his voice was rarely heard, all were suddenly silent. *He has seemed well intentioned thus far. Let us wait and see what happens.*

The others seemed shocked by Fánehua's words, for he had always seemed to be the one advocating violence, not peace.

*Then we accept his aid?* An agreement followed, hesitant by some, eagerly by others.

*Good. Then if he does harm us, or give us reason to no longer trust him, we shall... deal with the problem.*

Legolas felt a familiar shudder work its way down his spine, but thankfully none of the spirits moved to take over. Instead he was growing steadily sleepier as the moments dragged on, his body actually starting to relax under the combined effects of the tea and the older elf's ministrations.

Glorfindel watched as the herbs finally took effect, some of the obvious wariness disappearing in a sleepy haze. It was tempting to take advantage of the situation and push for more information, but he hesitated against doing so. There was no sense in doing anything that would cause him to loose the trust he had thus far gained. He did have one suggestion though.

"I still believe you should speak with Lord Elrond, show him the scars. Can I convince you to go see him with me tomorrow? He might be able to do something to help with the old wounds, and perhaps help with the dreams as well."

Legolas nodded, agreeing without really thinking about it. Ravan was listening though, and agreed with the plan, so it must be okay. Yawning softly he fell back on the bed until his head hit the pillow, curling up on his side with one hand placed next to his chin and the other held near his heart. It was a sweetly innocent gesture, and one that Glorfindel was certain he would never have seen had he not drugged the tea. As it was he smiled softly and rose from the bedside.

Twilight eyes followed him hazily as he padded about the room, pinching away the bright flames until only one candle was left. This he carried with him as he walked back to the bed. Legolas’ eyes still followed his movements, but were starting to gain a slightly glazed over look that indicated sleep was swiftly approaching. With one hand Glorfindel untangled one of the light covers and pulled it over the finally relaxed elf. The back of his hand brushed unthinkingly at the dusky-gold hair that lay against his pale face, but Legolas didn't respond to the unexpected touch. By then he was too deeply ensconced in dreams, hopefully more pleasant than those which plagued him earlier.

Quietly Glorfindel left the room, shutting the door softly before retreating to his own quarters, his appetite lost in the events of the night. *Tomorrow should be interesting,* he thought, considering what had just occurred as he readied for bed. *I hope Elrond doesn't have any pressing matters to attend to. Saeldis might just have to wait.*


A/N: I apologize if I gave the impression of more action in this chapter. I'm still working on that 'building of trust thingie.' Very important for upcoming events, and will make my job of putting him back together that much easier.
On a happy note, things are progressing much faster than originally intended! (grin) The longest day is swift in approaching!

And some more interesting facts about DID:
- "Current research shows that DID may affect 1% of the general population and perhaps as many as 5-20% of people in psychiatric hospitals, many of whom have received other diagnoses. The incidence rates are even higher among sexual-abuse survivors and individuals with chemical dependencies." (From www.sidran.org)
- "People with Dissociative Disorders may experience any of the following: depression, mood swings, suicidal tendencies, sleep disorders (insomnia, night terrors, and sleep walking), panic attacks and phobias (flashbacks, reactions to stimuli or "triggers"), alcohol and drug abuse, compulsions and rituals, psychotic-like symptoms (including auditory and visual hallucinations), and eating disorders. In addition, individuals with Dissociative Disorders can experience headaches, amnesias, time loss, trances, and "out of body experiences." Some people with Dissociative Disorders have a tendency toward self-persecution, self-sabotage, and even violence (both self-inflicted and outwardly directed)." (From www.sidran.org)

Review Responses:

MorierBlackleaf: Thanks! Your responses are always appreciated!

Karen: Don't worry, he does get what's coming to him. Of course, in the mean time... (evil grin)

Ertia: Thank you for reading my story, and I'm glad you like it so well! Another psyche hobbiest, eh? Aren't mental disorders interesting? The mind is such a fascinating place, and we may never know all its secrets.

Crookis: Ah-ha! You've hit it on the nose! And since I'm playing this in a more metaphysical viewpoint, and each personality is indeed a fragment of the original spirit, where do you suppose the faded fragments go? And how does one get them back? Is it important that they do come back? Argh! Anyways, yes, are are correct. And for being so quick, you get... a cookie! (grin)

eep: Thank you! I'm glad your still reading, and that you're still enjoying my little monster. I'm trying to do my best in keeping the illness as true as possible, but as the story progresses, I'll admit to feeling as if I'm digging myself into a hole. Some changes are inevitable. Ah, elves.
More squee ahead!

Yanic: Ah good; I succeeded on the gross factor, and I'm really happy you still enjoyed it. I asked my friends and co-workers what evil things one could do with a fish, but they just looked at me strangely. What more can I say? (grin)

Zed: Thank you. I hope the gross factor didn't wig you out too much. I was trying to show a malicious side of Saeldis that didn't just amount to beatings and sexual abuse. Legolas may have DID, but Saeldis is the one who's truly mad.