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!
Chaos!


Chapter 27: In The Garden

Legolas sat huddled upon a stone carved bench in the gardens beneath the vine entangled gazebo. His sharp ears could pick out the sound of fighting from the practice yards. Glorfindel would be there, he knew, as well as the twins and Laurerána. He longed to join them; to pick up his knives or sword once more and spar against the others, but knew Elrond would not allow it for some time yet. He had been allowed to move about unassisted only two days before. His wounds had continued to heal well; only the stomach wound giving him occasional pain if he twisted about too quickly or overexerted himself.

This day Elrond had come to speak with him as he usually did, yet he had also brought news that Legolas wasn’t certain how to respond to. His father had been informed of his brush with death, and was coming to see him. Upon hearing the news Legolas had felt as if the floor had been dropped from beneath him. His father. He knew he would have to face it at some point, but didn’t think it would be so soon.

Elrond had watched him struggle for words, unable to find the ones to properly express how he felt. Parts of him were excited, the youngling exclaiming loudly his joy in seeing his ada again, but the rest of him was filled with doubt, fear, and even anger. Finally, after a period of strained silence, Legolas had left Elrond, articulating the need of some private time in which to gather his thoughts together. Soon he had found himself back in the gardens, in the same place Glorfindel had first spoken to him about the scars, and extended his offer of friendship. His thoughts seemed as chaotic now as they were then.

He pulled his legs up towards his body; arms wrapped about his knees, and laid his head back against a flowering pillar with his eyes closed. Varied thoughts and emotions flitted through his mind. The comments and concerns of everyone were now more calm and organized than they had been in times past. It was a strong improvement from the nearly overwhelming, angry surges from before. Everyone knew they had a voice, and would be heard. That wasn’t to say there wouldn’t be disagreements or sudden outbursts of temper; they were just more infrequent, and with Elrond’s help and guidance, more easily resolved.

Now he had this new information to consider. In the past Legolas had felt merely indifference when dealing with his father; with perhaps a vague feeling of unfocused anger. He knew now that it wasn’t his duty to be more than a cover in that aspect of his life, and thus any real emotion had been instigated by one of the others: Elanor, who loved her ada as any child would and saw him as a strong elf who could heal all hurts and right all wrongs. That Elanor still continued to believe that, despite all that happened, showed the depths of her great resilience and unwavering faith. And there was Aenos who had been happy to please any authority figure, yet due to the recent circumstances was beginning to doubt all previous loyalties. Saeldis turned out to be evil after all, so who was to say their father, who had put the troubled elf into place as their tutor and sometimes guardian, wasn’t wrong as well? From Mórehua and the countless others who had faded when the father’s protection was not adequately given came the anger, the accusations, and the blame. Even Ravan’s impartial council and cool reasoning couldn’t push fact over feeling, not with so many years of suppressed anger left to fester.

Thranduil was their father. He should have seen something was wrong. He should have stopped Saeldis. He had basically condoned Saeldis’ actions. He hadn’t believed them when they tried to tell him their tutor was hurting them. He had abandoned them into the hands of a mad elf. He was a king, supposed to look after the welfare of his people, yet had somehow forgotten his son.

Yet he is only an elf, logic reasoned. No elf is omnipotent. He was busy with the troubles of the kingdom. How was he to know when Saeldis hid everything so well; when even Legolas ‘forgot’ anything was wrong?

It doesn’t matter, came the counter. There must have been some sign. He should have seen something. And now…and now….

Now he would know. Elrond had assured him that the messages had been vague; only that his son was in danger and Thranduil would be wise to come immediately.

What would he say when he found out? Legolas tried to search his mind for past responses to trouble, but was unable to think of any that might give him a clue as to how his father might react to the fact that his son had been mistreated, abused, and broken. In fact, HE could remember very little of his father at all, and it was a bit disconcerting to realize all the memories were broken up between all the personalities, and it would be some time before he knew everything they knew.

*What will it be like when we are all one,* he wondered, thoughts shifting in a new direction. This was not for the first time he had wondered such things. It wasn’t something he could easily imagine. The others had always been there, residing in the back of his mind since he could remember. Even during the periods in which he had no knowledge of their presence, he still knew they had been a major influence in his life. To be one…to be alone…it was a frightening thought. Then there was the fact that he considered himself an individual, as did the others. What sort of loss of self would merging bring? The already integrated part of himself assured them that it wasn’t like that at all, yet the fear and doubts remained.

He sensed movement and opened his eyes to gaze through the archway. Elrohir was walking through the gardens, dusty from a recent sparring match. The dark haired elf spotted Legolas and turned in his direction, lifting a single hand in greeting. Legolas offered a smile in return.

Elrohir trudged up the steps and paused in the archway, leaning back wearily against one of the pillars. “Glorfindel is in a fine mood this day,” he grinned. “And because of it, we all suffer.”

“Would you believe I envy you?” Legolas replied, wishing he were hale enough to join the others. It was with a look of wry amusement that he suddenly realized it wasn’t merely the fighting he missed, but the odd comradeship that formed between the warriors. He would have never considered that fact before now; never realizing the strength of the bonds that formed, however inadvertently, and yet there it was.

“You are mad,” Elrohir laughed, then upon realizing what he had said, flushed darkly and ducked his head. “I am sorry. I did not mean-”

“What?” Legolas gave him an amused look. He knew they tended to tip-toe around words when he was present, even if they were only trying to be kind, and he wished they would stop. “You spoke in jest, and I take no offense. Actually, I had been wondering…what it is like to be normal.”

Elrohir looked up with a smile. “I wouldn’t know, but from what I have heard, it is not much fun.” That earned him a chuckle from the Legolas, much to the darker elf’s delight. Legolas had never smiled much before the incident, but now he seemed more open to joviality. It seemed odd, given what he had been through, and Elrohir had assumed he would have further closed himself off. Yet he knew it was a testament to the healing power of the Valar combined with the potent strength within the elf’s own spirit. It was inspiring to see, and Elrohir enjoyed discovering new ways to make Legolas smile.

He pushed forwards from the archway using his shoulders and motioned that he’d like to sit on the bench beside the usually distant elf. Legolas nodded, moving over slightly to allow more room. It was something else which Elrohir found promising; the fact that Legolas’ unusually large sense of personal space was growing smaller and he would willingly allow someone to sit as close as he did.

“I shall have many more bruises come tomorrow,” Elrohir groaned good-naturedly. “No matter how good I become, Glorfindel remains ahead in skill by many lengths; always ready to lower my pride a few notches.” He leaned back, sighing a bit in relief, before turning his head to look over at his companion. “Did you have a meeting with father this morning?”

“Yes,” Legolas rested his chin on his upraised knees, a frown once more creasing his face. “He informed me that my father is on his way here.”

“Oh.” Elrohir thought about it for a brief moment. “Is this a bad thing? Will he take you back home?”

“I do not know. Lord Elrond would like for me to remain, that he may continue to watch my progress and my… continued healing.”

Elrohir nodded, expecting a suggestion of the sort. Elrond had taken to studying Leoglas’s condition with the eagerness of an elfling with a strange new toy. Books and scrolls slowly piled up in his study, both on the elvish history of healing and books imported from human settlements. It seemed this odd illness was something more common amongst humans, although still hardly common at all and often misdiagnosed as mere madness.

“But what do you want?” Elrohir asked.

Legolas shrugged. “I am not certain. I could return, and there are bound to be healers in Mirkwood who could help me should the need arise. I could get to know my family once more, for I have come to realize I know little about them due to my self enforced isolation. My own father is a mystery to me, despite the opinions of the others.”

“But…” Elrohir pressed as the silence lengthened. He noticed Legolas’ gaze had wandered off in the direction of the practice yards where the sounds of sparring continued on. Inwardly he smiled. He remembered the way Glorfindel had sat with the injured elf through the long days when no one was certain whether he would recover of not, not to mention how much time the older elf spent with Legolas now that he was mending. The evenings he had spent conversing with his fellows or settled in his rooms were now spent at Legolas’ side. There was a definite interest on Glorfindel’s part, and it seemed the interest might be shared.

“I am not sure,” Legolas finally replied, his eyes sweeping back to Elrohir. “My heart wishes to stay.” It sounded ridiculous, he knew, but he couldn’t explain his reasoning beyond that. Ducking his head back down to his knees, he closed his eyes, feeling slightly embarrassed by the statement. So little time had he spent here, and yet he felt connected to this place. Or was it the people? Many of the elves here knew of his condition by now and accepted him despite the situation. Could he expect the same back home? Yet he missed the comforting presence of the trees, and realized now that they had known him before he had known himself. But what of the other elves? What of his father and his siblings?

And then there was that unknown factor that gave his mind pause: Glorfindel. A warm, pleasant feeling seemed to come over him every time he was in the elf lord’s presence. In his mind’s eye he could see he golden hair shimmering in the sun as he sparred with the other elves, his strong yet lithe body moving with a feline’s grace. Or the deep blue eyes that held such tenderness in their sparkling depths, revealing the beautiful soul within. He was a comfort and one he could trust, like Elrond, but without a healer’s motivations. He was a friend, like the twins and ‘Lau, but that friendship felt different than that of the younger elves. He recalled both Estê and his mother’s charge to the golden Elda watch over them, and wondered if Glorfindel would have remained so attentive despite their words.

*Yes,* he decided. He certainly would have, and that thought alone made Legolas smile.

“I hope you decide to stay with us longer,” Elrohir finally said, breaking the lengthy silence. “Perhaps when you have further healed we can plan a small scouting expedition. Elladan and I can show you more of the lands about Imladris.”

“I would like that,” Legolas replied, lifting his head and catching Elrohir’s grey gaze. At that moment he knew he would stay, because here he had something he had never allowed himself the luxury to gain and nurture back in Mirkwood: the love and care of friends.


Review Responses:

As I’m feeling terribly exhausted, I’m going to cheat once more and do another mass thank you to MorierBlackleaf, Yanic, Crookis, and lelann. Your comments continue to fill me with joy and make me smile, which is a blessing in itself. Thank you so much. And yes, as you’ve all probably figured, I’m nearing the end. Unfortunately, because I was trying to be so nice to everyone for the holidays and leave them with a bit of happiness, I have fallen a bit behind. I may be posting the next few a bit later than usual, but I promise, I will reach an end. I’ve gotten this far… (grin)