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!
Thanksgiving ribs!

Thanks to both Linuari and Ki-fors for beta-ing. You were both a big help.

Chapter Twenty-one: One Long Night: Thwarted


Glorfindel aimlessly wandered the dark gardens. Tiny green fireflies danced along the grassy knoll to either side of the path on which he walked. Ithil’s light was obscured by a swath of dark clouds that held the promise of rain soon to come. Night flowers bloomed, casting their delicate scents into the heavy air, but Glorfindel paid his surroundings little notice.

He had left Legolas in his rooms, curled up in exhausted slumber after a long bout of tears. He still hadn’t revealed his tormentor, but Glorfindel felt it wouldn’t be long before a name was revealed. Besides, both Elrond and himself had a shared idea over the identity of the perpetrator, and Glorfindel was determined to have his own private talk with the former tutor, should he find the deceitful elf. He had already tried Master Saeldis’ rooms in hopes of catching him there, but either he wasn’t in or simply wasn’t answering. It was getting late, so either possibility was likely. The foreign elf tended to retreat to his rooms early in the evenings to continue his work and awaken with Anor’s first light.

A strangled shout caught his ears, bringing him up short, and he looked off in the direction of whence came. Nothing could be seen through the thick, dark foliage, so he moved to investigate. It could be nothing, merely the impassioned cry of a lover locked within the arms of another, yet he felt he should look into it, just on the off chance something was truly amiss.

He pushed through the shrubbery as quietly as possible, soon reaching a small, shadowy clearing lit only by a distant torch flickering through the shifting leaves. A pair of elves were locked together in what initially seemed to be a moment of intimacy. He paused, not wishing to intrude further. He was about to back away and leave the two alone but for the brief flash of a metal buckle resting tautly against the throat of the one laying on the ground. The hoarse wheeze of someone being strangled shifted his attention, and he abruptly realized what he had first thought to be two lovers was in fact the scene of an attempted murder.

“Hold!” He shouted, drawing a small knife from his belt. He wished he had his sword, but hadn’t thought he would need it within Imladris’s protective walls.

The crouched elf lifted his head, and Glorfindel was momentarily shocked to see it was Legolas bent over the supine form. Hadn’t he left the elf sleeping in his rooms not long before? Yet upon looking closer he discovered that this was not Leoglas, but another. He momentarily realized that he was growing much more adept at telling the different spirits apart. Although he couldn’t see much of the eyes in the darkness, he could tell by the way the body was held that it was Mórehua; and glancing down at the victim, he recognized it as Master Saeldis.

“Mórehua, stand down!” Glorfindel ordered. The elf still hadn’t loosened his grip on the leather strap and Saeldis’ hands were fluttering weakly upon the other’s tight grip.

Mórehua growled low in his throat, but did as he was bid, dropping the end of the belt disdainfully. Saeldis’ hands immediately dropped to his own throat and began to draw in long, heaving breaths as the belt loosened and air was finally allowed into his lungs.

“This is not over,” Mórehua hissed into the ear of the one trapped beneath him. His shadowed eyes glinted in the darkness and in a single, fluid movement he rose from his crouched position and bolted upwards into the sanctuary of the trees. Glorfindel was torn between wanting to chase after Mórehua, or remaining to aid the injured elf. Yet as much as he wished to follow, his duties forced him to stay. He didn’t think Mórehua would go far, not with the others patrolling his mind, and Saeldis needed to be taken care of.

With a quick stride he moved to where the former tutor now sat, pulling the leather strap from around his neck with jerky movements. He couldn’t help but feel disgust upon looking at the dark blonde elf. What had he done to cause Legolas’ malady? What had happened before he arrived here? He began to wish he had just let Mórehua kill him, and then dealt with the consequences later.

“Can you speak?” he asked, attempting to sound concerned.

Saeldis opened his mouth, but at first all that emerged was a hacking cough. Glorfindel waited impatiently for him to regain his speech, hoping the elf would quickly recover that he might go after Mórehua sooner. Finally Saeldis spoke, the words still sounding harsh and strained.

“He tried to kill me! You saw it! The whelp tried to murder me again!” Saeldis rasped as he struggled to rise to his feet, and as disinclined as he was, Glorfindel shifted to help. “I left Mirkwood because of him, and now he has followed me here! I want something done! He is a malicious creature beset by demons, and needs to be taken care of in one way or another!” Now that he was looking for it, Glorfindel could not miss the spark of hatred that flashed in the old tutor's eyes as he spoke of the young prince.

Anger flowed through the taller elf. “And what of your part in this?” He spat. “I have reason enough to believe you are the cause of his actions, blossomed from the abuse you heaped upon him as an elfling!”

Saeldis sputtered with indignance. “I? I? How dare you accuse me of such a thing! If you have proof behind these accusations, then by all means produce it now. Otherwise, leave off your condemnation and place it where it truly belongs: upon that darkling elf whose fair face hides a foul soul.”

“What more proof do I need but the fear that shines from his eyes when he gazes upon you?” Glorfindel shouted.

“It certainly was not fear I saw when he attacked me, but a mad rage!” Saeldis countered.

“Rage born of fear!” Glorfindel all but growled at him. “You have somehow fractured his mind! What did you do to him?”

“He was broken ere I knew him,” Saeldis sniffed, then stepped back as Glorfindel raised his knife and aimed it at Saeldis’ throat.

“You cannot harm me,” Saeldis said dryly, though his shrinking posture betrayed his fear.

“No,” Glorfindel said, regaining his calm. “Not here. Not yet. But when I find out exactly your role in Legolas’ condition, you may be certain I will be the first to hunt you down.”

They stood that way for several moments until Glorfindel finally re-sheathed the small blade. Saeldis ran his fingers along the wound on his cheek from earlier; his fingers coming away streaked with blood.

“I shall go to the healing quarters to have this looked at.” He turned stiffly to leave. Glorfindel momentarily contemplated striking down the elf right then, but his own sense of honor prevented him.

“I wish to speak with you still,” Glorfindel called out. “I will be waiting for you when you are finished!”

Then he left to find Legolas, or Mórehua; whomever happened to be in control at the moment. He would also speak to several of the guards and assign them keep the former tutor under watch. If he had frightened Mórehua into attempting murder, there was no telling what else he might do now.

* * *


Legolas woke to find himself crouched in the branches of a tall tree in one of the more secluded sections of the gardens, and with no memory as to how he came to be there. Rubbing his forehead wearily he thought back on the last thing he could recall. He had been in his rooms with Glorfindel. Color rose in his cheeks as he remembered the older elf holding him as he wept, and then once again tucking him into bed like a small elfling.

*He will start to think of himself as my nursemaid,* he thought with wry embarrassment. Yet he couldn’t help but remember the warmth and security he had felt in that simple embrace. How long had it been since he had allowed any to hold him like that, or even get close enough to touch? How long since he allowed himself to trust any to do so?

His last memory was of falling asleep. Now he was hiding in a tree in the gardens. So what had happened?

*Elanor?* he called silently, thinking that of all the spirits, the exuberant elfling seemed the most likely perpetrator. Yet he received no response from that direction.

*Why am I here?* Legolas thought harder, and was suddenly assaulted by flashes of memory. He was glad he was so firmly braced in the tree, or he might have slipped and fallen to the ground. He observed himself as Elanor sneaking out into the gardens to play, and watched Master Saeldis approach from the darkened bushes. He saw Aenos take over, and felt the sting of the leather belt over his back. Then he watched as Mórehua attempted to strangle their former tutor with the instrument of his abuse. Yet before he could kill the elf, Glorfindel showed up. They raced off, their fear of recrimination causing Oiolaire to emerge and seek this place to hide.

The onslaught only lasted a few brief moments, but left Legolas reeling. *Why could you all not just remain in our room?* he asked despairingly, not expecting an answer. They were their own beings, after all, and always came and went as they pleased.

He shifted to climb down out of the tree, groaning at the pain the movement caused. His back burned sharply, scored deeply from the earlier lashing, and the way his tunic stuck to his back told of blood. With care he climbed down from the tree, making hardly a sound, and then proceeded to make his way through the darkness back to his rooms. He briefly considered stopping by the healer’s quarters to seek help for his back, but recalled all the supplies horded in his packs back in his own rooms and continued on. No need to raise questions with the healers that he was unwilling to answer. It was enough that Elrond and Glorfindel knew of his condition. He had no desire to add to their number.

He didn’t see anyone as he walked through the gardens or corridors. As he passed by Glorfindel’s rooms he paused. The older elf most likely wished to speak with them, if he wasn’t already out looking. He had to finally tell him who Master Saeldis was and what he had done.

*What if Saeldis comes after us again?* he thought, heart jumping in sudden panic. *He will be angry to have been thwarted.*

*I doubt he will try anything more tonight,* came Ravan’s soothing voice. *Yet I believe we should indeed speak with Glorfindel. The situation has progressed beyond our control.*

Legolas knocked hesitantly on the door, but no answer was forthcoming. He waited a moment and knocked once more. Unfortunately there was still no reply. He concluded the older elf was still out somewhere, and there was no telling when he would be back. With a sigh he continued on to his own rooms; Glorfindel might eventually seek him there and if not, he would try again in the morning.

Opening the door, he slightly surprised to see a candle burning on the nightstand.

*Elanor must have left it burning,* he thought, then paused, sifting through the imparted memories. *No, she didn’t - ”

That was the last though before a sharp pain exploded in his head and he fell into darkness.


Review Responses:

Ertia: See? No worries! Kinslaying has been deterred!
But at what cost… (evil grin)

Thalionwen: Yes, it is quite sad, and the cycle of abuse just keeps going unless intervention occurs. And there will be more on Saeldis later, and a little more info about why he is the way he is. And as far as Legolas and Co., although I might not go into the specific details of it, I plan on them being healed by the time this story through. Boy, I’ve a lot of work ahead of me…

Lelann: Ah, was this rescue okay? Although I must say, I ended it a bit abruptly once again. (sigh) What’s a person to do? (grin)

Daeomae: Thank you! I’m glad you’re still enjoying this!

Crookis: Don’t worry, Glorfindel to the rescue! Although it does seem like some more rescuing might need to be done, now doesn’t it… (evil chuckle)

Zed: I’ve seemed to hit upon a series of nasty cliffhangers actually. Oops! (grin) But you’re right, it is kind of odd picturing Legolas*Elanor, particularly because she is female. As far as the end being nigh, I suppose that all depends upon what you’d consider the end…(grin)