Voices In The Dark

Title: Voices In The Dark
Author: Nikkiling
Pairing: Legolas/OC, Legolas/? (haven't quite decided yet)
Rating: NC-17 (just in case)
Warnings: NCS, Mentions/Memories of child abuse, WIP
Summery: Thranduil sends one of his sons to Imladris, fearing that the stresses of constant battle against the encroaching darkness may be too much for the young prince. Little does anyone know the prince's true state of mind...
Disclaimer: This wonderful world belongs to Tolkien. I'm just borrowing the characters for a time and adding a few of my own. No money is being made, and no animals were harmed in the making of this story. Thank you.
Author's note: Reviews will be greatly appreciated. This is my first time, so please be gentle. Also, mental health tends to be a nebulous science in some aspects. Any inconsistencies will be attributed to the unknowns of elven physiology. Ha!


Siven: Thank you for your wonderful response. This is the first time I've let anyone other than a few really close friends read my stuff, and I feel about as nervous as a cat in a room full of dogs and rocking chairs. (grin)

So here's the next part, and sooner than I was planning to post.


Chapter One: The Message

The two elf lords happened to be conversing over a bottle of fine elvish wine when the messenger arrived. Anor hung low in the evening sky, leaving behind the twilight shades of deep blue, indigo, and rosy mauve painted on the remote horizon. The distant trees had become mere silhouettes whose simple beauty seemed greater than when viewed under Anor’s strong noonday light.

The late spring evening was warm, and the balcony overlooking the swift Bruinen River seemed an ideal place to relax away from the stresses of the day. This particular balcony held a view unmatched by any other. The cold waters of the tumbling river fell down the mountainside in a beautiful cascade of white spray, often creating rainbows when glimpsed with Anor’s light illuminating the tiny droplets. The river then rushed beneath the finely wrought stone balustrade, it’s gentle roar soothing to the senses, yet not so loud as to impede conversation. The unrelenting waters then proceeded to pour from between the tall hills that enclosed the west end of the valley, feeding the plains and marshes beyond.

Steady, precise footsteps warned the two lords of the messenger’s approach, and both turned away from the enchanting view to discover who had come. The messenger, a dark blonde elf wearing the dark green and grey livery of Mirkwood, bowed once before the lords, then turned exclusively towards the one of darker continence.

“I bear a message from King Thranduil of Mirkwood to Lord Elrond of Imladris,” she stated succinctly before handing the afore mentioned elf the sealed parchment.

Lord Elrond nodded slightly in response, taking the message and bidding the elf to partake of food and rest before returning with a reply. She bowed once again, then quickly left, leaving the two lords once again alone on the balcony.

The second elf, his long golden hair becoming burnished in the light of the setting sun, gestured once with his half-filled glass.

“Any guesses as to the purpose?” Glorfindel asked, his fair features bright with amusement. The two realms had been at peace now for nearly twenty years; short by elven standards. Yet the alliance was a long time in coming, especially with orcs and goblins growing ever bolder in their fights for territory. They had been trading warriors periodically now, each helping out the other when the orcs began to grow more numerous. It was also a fine opportunity for the elves to learn new battle tactics and fighting techniques, something Glorfindel, as seneschal and weapons master, heartily approved of.

“Nay,” Elrond shook his head in answer to his companion’s question. He only hoped it was nothing too serious. The encroaching darkness seemed to be growing bolder by the day. He flipped the letter about in his long fingers several times before finally breaking the seal and opening it.

Glorfindel lifted his glass to his lips and shifted his attention back towards the fading sunset, giving Elrond a chance to read the message in the last of the meager light. Occasionally he glanced over at his companion, interpreting varied expressions of amusement, confusion, and concern on his usually stoic features.

Finally Elrond lowered the letter to the small wooden table between them, the look on his face now returned to its usual contemplative expression. His gaze returned to the sky, and together he and Glorfindel watched Carnil emerge from the growing darkness, the star’s tiny light sparkling gaily in the night. The sharp scent of pine drifted towards where they sat, its heady aroma refreshing to the senses.

After a brief time Glorfindel turned his face to his friend and quirked one dark gold eyebrow in a silent question. If Elrond wished to confide in him the contents of the message, he would. If not, he would respect his friend’s discretion.

Elrond responded to the look with a wry twist of his thin lips. “Thranduil sends his greetings, and informs me that although the attacks on his borders have increased, the warriors we sent are performing their duties proficiently, and can report no losses.” He paused a moment, taking a small sip from his glass of wine. “He has one request though. He wishes to send one of his sons here for a time, due to some rumors concerning the young prince’s current state of health, and he believes a period of rest away from the shadows of Mirkwood could help him.”

“Which son is this, and health problems of what sort?” Glorfindel asked, his brow now furrowing slightly. Elves did not fall to sickness easily, and he hoped it was nothing too serious.

“Legolas, his second child. He does not specify the problem, only his concern. I believe he doesn’t know the exact problem himself, only suspects something due to the intervention of one of his son’s comrades.” He took another sip of wine, the fingers of his free hand tapping thoughtfully on the arm of his chair. It was a habit which Glorfindel found increasingly annoying, the rhythmic tapping disrupting his thoughts and slowly grating on his nerves, even after all these years. Yet he said nothing. After these many millennia, it wasn’t a habit Elrond was likely to change.

“During my brief stays in Thranduil’s kingdom I only spoke to Legolas once, and he seemed distant then,” Elrond continued. “Only his eyes can I distinctly remember, for they seemed strange, almost remote. Much of his time was spent out on the borders scouting. You spent some time in Mirkwood. What were your impressions?”

Glorfindel began twirling the stem of his glass in his fingers, the ruby-red liquid sloshing about, threatening to spill onto his dark blue robes. It was a habit of his own, and one he knew annoyed Elrond as much as the tapping fingers did to his own mind. A brief grin flashed across the Elda’s face at the reminder, and a quick glance at the elven lord confirmed to him that the habit was still just as annoying. The tapping fingers stopped, and so did the swirling glass, although Glorfindel was hard pressed not to grin at his small victory.

“The second son of King Thranduil; one elder brother, another younger, and a sister.” He paused a moment, recalling his brief stay in the elven king’s realm many years before. It had been a diplomatic mission, and a healing of the rift that had grown between the Greatwood and Imladris since the last great war. He had found the elves there much like the ones here in Rivendell, and open to the possibility of renewed relations with the other elven realms. Although, he admitted, it could be due to the fact that a great darkness was slowly settling further down into their home, and an alliance could help provide the arms needed to help fight the rising numbers of orcs and giant spiders that constantly harried their borders. Yet he couldn’t fault them their wish for the safety of themselves and their families.

He brought his mind back to Thranduil’s children. All were of fair mien, as the Sindar race tended to be, although the youngest, Asquilyne, held a wild beauty that seemed greater even than that of her departed mother. She was also quite headstrong and stubborn, and a warrior as excelled as any of her brothers. Glorfindel did not envy Thranduil in keeping track of that one.

The second youngest, Rillince, was by far the most scholarly, and had impressed Glorfindel with his vast knowledge of history and politics. In fact, he had kept the former Balrog slayer locked away for hours at a time, discussing Gondolin and its former glory. He suspected Elrond had been set upon as well during his stay, and that the young prince longed for the day he could visit Imladris and once more poke through the mind of its famous loremaster.

The eldest son, and crown prince, seemed the image of Thranduil himself. Tall, long of limb, straight golden hair the color of Anor’s light. Telpeur was very skilled in the art of diplomacy, and would someday make a fine ruler if he could just control his sudden flares of temper.

Glorfindel then frowned slightly, still gazing into his half-filled glass. Legolas was the elf he knew least about. He had seemed friendly enough upon meeting, although distant, and indeed much of his time was spent on the boarders fighting against the rising darkness.

“A solitary elf,” he finally said, slowly. “When I saw him he was always very quiet and kept to himself. They say he’s very skilled with the bow and knife. He seemed well respected by the others, but never overly friendly except for with those of long acquaintance. I noted his eyes as well, for they seemed at times to change color. Unusual for an elf. I will agree that something about him disturbed me, although I couldn’t place the cause.”

Elrond nodded, still gazing into the dark sky. More stars joined Carnil in the sea of blackness, lending their pale, reassuring light to the seemingly quiet world. He saw no reason to disallow Thranduil’s request, and in fact saw it as an opportunity to strengthen Imladris’s bonds with the forest kingdom. Legolas should be nearly the same age as his own twin sons. A friendship between them could prove advantageous to future relations.

Not that he discounted Thranduil’s concern over his son’s health either. He was a skilled healer after all, and he would not deny his knowledge to any who asked. From the little the king revealed, it sounded as if his son was merely overworked and needed time to recover. This he would gladly give.

“I will send a reply agreeing to Thranduil’s request,” Elrond finally said after finishing his glass and setting it aside. “I can find no reason not to.”

Glorfindel nodded before draining the rest of his wine and rising. “Then I will leave you to compose your letter, and I’ll be off to my rooms to rest. I must leave early for patrol in the morning.”

“Sleep well, my friend,” Elrond replied with a smile.

Glorfindel bowed slightly in response, then turned and left the dark elf lord alone with his thoughts.