Little Elf (Prequel to Warrior Elf)

Pairings: Thranduil/Annariel
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Angst, Domestic Violence, Parental Abuse
Summary: An incident took place and it changed Legolas forever.
Characters: Adar (Thranduil), Nana (Annariel), Prince Amras, Prince Teril, Baby Iruven, Haldir, Rumil, Orophin
Disclaimer: Only Annariel, Amras, Teril and Iruven are mine. The rest belongs to Tolkien.

Important Notes: This is written in Legolas’ POV. I hope I’m able to make people see how young Legolas actually is and also perhaps people could understand and see how is it that the experiences he had as a youth influenced the way he behaved in the Warrior Elf Series. I just want to put across my view that it is possible for some people to associate comfort and love with sex.

Little Elf Series Part 3: Adar (Father)

It had been another normal day in the Forest of Mirkwood and Legolasenleenleaf had just turned twelve years of age. There had been a loud and rambunctious celebration by the bathing pool which involved a naked sprint through the woods, tossing Little Elf into the pool and swimming in the nude. The idea had been Haldir’s of course, and although Rumil and Orophin had expressed their reluctance at the prospect of showing their bits to two underage Elves, Haldir scoffed at their apprehension, saying that there was nothing that he and Legolas had not seen already.

And so they had agreed and had invented a story of how Elves used to show their endurance by running naked and barefooted in the forest of Lothlorien. Legolas had believed them, accepting their challenge to do the same in the Forest of Mirkwood and the four friends had stripped together. The moment Legolas had his leggings off, they made a move to grab the young Elfling – with the intention of tossing him into the pool. So Legolas had run away, dodging their outstretched hands, torn between laughter and exasperation.

But they easily caught up with him and grabbed him by his hands and legs. And with a count of one, two and three, they had unceremoniously hurled the screaming figure into the water – which was rather unfortunate because it was winter and the water was freezing. The three brothers had jumped in with him and Orophin made a crude remark about his bits shrinking into the size of an acorn because of the cold. Legolas had laughed, saying “Huh? I thought your bits were *already* the size of an acorn!” And of course, Orophin had not been amused. So, he had stolen Legolas clothes and left him standing in the pool to freeze.

Rumil and Haldir had hunted for Orophin who had mysteriously disappeared with Little Elf’s clothes, cursing and laughing at the same time, while Legolas tried hard not to shiver as he stood naked in the pool. And that was how his Adar found him and judging from the carefully masked expression of Thranduil and the kind smile of Lord Elrond, Legolas knew that he was in trouble. He had stammered his apologies, all the while bending his knees so that the King and his guest could not see his privates. Legolas was mortified and the three brothers were curiously no where to be found.

Annariel was summoned and she rushed to the scene, bearing large amount of towels to wrap Legolas’ still naked body which was slowly turning blue. Adar had just spared him a look that chilled Little Elf even more than the water and had left without saying a word to his son. He did not even look back to see Nana crying because Legolas was so cold he could not move his fingers and feet and Nana had had to carry him to her room.

That had been two weeks ago and Adar’s anger showed no sign of relenting. Legolas had been denied the opportunity to play with Haldir and there were rumours that Orophin had requested to see Legolas to apologize for taking his clothes. Legolas did not think thaere ere was any need for apologies because he knew that that had all been done in fun. It was just that he had been unlucky enough to be seen having fun by his father.

He also knew that the three brothers had hidden in the trees when Adar had stood by the pool, his frosty blue eyes fixed upon Legolas’ trembling body. But he did not mind them hiding because he did not want them to get into trouble. It was better that Adar got angry at Legolas than the three brothers, thought Little Elf. At least he could stay in Mirkwood. Haldir and his brothers would probably be sent back to Lothlorien in disgrace and that was a worse punishment than being locked up in your room for two weeks.

But the worst punishment (in Legolas’ opinion) was the fact that Legolas was not allowed to sleep with Nana at night. And that made him sad. Sometimes (not all the time) he would cry because he missed her so much and he knew she missed him too because she would always stand outside his door and speak to him for a long time. It did not matter what she said, Legolas had thought as he sat on the floor and pressed his ear against the bolted door, because it was enough to hear his Nana’s voice.

Everyday was an eternity and every night was pure loneliness and Legolas thought to himself that loneliness was a curse so terrible that he feared that he might go mad with the sheer misery of it. And it was a strange feeling because he had never felt anything like that before. He felt a hunger so intense it hurt him. The hunger for his Nana’s voice, the hunger for Haldir’s laughter and even the hunger for Adar’s frowns. Anything would be better than this emptiness in his heart.

He tried to find ways to entertain himself. In the days, he jumped up and down his bed, imagining that he was on the tree tops with Haldir – jumping, jumping, jumping up and down the tallest tree in the whole of Middle Earth. And at night, he sat with his knees to his forehead, and rocked to and fro, imagining that he was safe and happy once again in Nana’s arms…

**********

It was the beginning of spring in Mirkwood when the last frost had melted from the trees, and Legolas was restless once more. He had long ago been allowed to leave his room and when he had first stepped out and had looked at Nana looking at him, his lips had wobbled so much that Nana cried again and brought him to her room, and held him the whole day while Legolas shivered and trembled.

But that was weeks ago and although Legolas still was not allowed to see Haldir and his brothers, at least he had baby Iruven to play with. Iruven was now three years old and was a beautiful baby Elf. His smile was like sunshine and he worshipped Legolas, following him around like a puppy and Legolas loved Iruven too. Legolas wished that Iruven could play with him all day but he knew that other people would want to play with Iruven too – and he would wait patiently in a corner of the dining hall when Iruven sat on Adar’s lap, playing with a lock of that regal, blond hair and giggling when the King tickled Iruven. And Legolas would feel lonely once more seeing Adar and Iruven playing together.

But he was happy when Iruven played with him. ‘Wittle Ewef’, Iruven had called him, making Legolas laugh. The first time he laughed he was a little surprised by the sound because he had almost forgotten what it felt like to laugh. But he was glad and he pulled funny faces, making Iruven laugh even more. All in all, it was a good life. It was all he could ever hope for.

So one fine morning, Legolas asked Prince Amras for permission to bring Iruven to the bathing pool to look at the ‘pretty fish’. Amras had smiled, nodded his head and ruffled Legolas’ hair and the Little Elf unconsciously leaned into the touch. It had been so long that someone other than Nana had done that. And sometimes when he saw Adar, Teril and Amras stroking Iruven’s brown hair, Legolas wanted to be petted too. He wanted to be told that he was beautiful, as how Adar had told Iruven when Adar peered down into the sleeping face of the baby as Iruven lay in his cot. And he wanted to be looked at with that warm, funny look that Adar had fixed upon Iruven whenever Adar thought that no one was looking. And at times like that, his heart would hurt. But he did not know why.

In any case, Iruven sat upon Legolas’ young, strong shoulders as he ran, ran, ran through the woods, Iruven squealing in glee and Legolas laughing because Iruven was happy.

“Wun! Wittle Ewef wun fast!” Iruven said, his voice shrill and happy, his arms grabbing Legolas’ head to prevent himself from falling off.

“No! No! I am too tired!” cried Little Elf but he ran faster anyway and those who heard their laughter could not help but smile as well – because the one who could not be charmed when Legolas and Iruven laughed must be one who had a heart of stone indeed.

They reached the edge of the pool and Legolas held Iruven’s hand so that the baby would not wander too close to the water edge. They squatted side by side on a boulder, throwing little pieces of bread into the pool; pointing excitedly at the fish in the pool and speaking in a language only known to young Elves.

“Fish! Fish swim! Pink Fish!” cried Iruven and babbled in his baby speech w Leg Legolas understood perfectly well. He answered in kind, making little gurgles and Iruven gurgled back, laughing all the time.

“No! No!” yelped Legolas when Iruven wanted to lean forward to touch the water. Iruven had been fascinated by the little bubbles and ripples in the water that the fish made as they nibbled upon the floating bread at the water surface. Legolas then had an idea. He decided to collect some sticks so that Iruven could toss them into the pool.

“Stay here. Don’t move,” he instructed and Iruven giggled but he listened to what Legolas asked him to do, sitting down and became very still, hardly breathing. And Legolas turned around and walked away from the rocky surface, walking towards the forest edge, looking for some broken branches. It did not take more than a minute but when he turned to look back at the water-edge, Iruven was gone.

A fear that he had never felt before ripped through his body – his heart seemed to stop in his chest.

“Iruven!” he said, his eyes wide as he dashed towards the water’s edge. Faint bubbles could be seen breaking the water surface. Baby Iruven had fallen into the water. With a cry of dismay and terror, Legolas jumped in after his cousin.

The water stung his eyes but he kept them open. The floor was full of large pit holes as it progressed nearer to the middle of the pool. It was where Legolas had thought he had last seen the bubbles. Perhaps, somehow, Iruven had managed to float all the way to the middle of the pool.

Legolas’ chest constricted with lack of air and the pressure increased upon his lungs as he swam deeper and deeper into one of the pit holes. The cold water did nothing to ease his search for the baby and he was forced to surface, taking a huge gulping breath and dived back into the chilly blueness once more, trashing his way underwater towards the middle of the pool. But he was slowly becoming tired and still he could not find the baby. It was the first time he panicked. He did not know what else to do.

“Haldir,” he choked out when he resurfaced once more, calling out the first name that came to his mind. And then he screamed it. He was frightened. Baby Iruven had been under water for three whole minutes.

He continued calling out for Haldir and after sometime (of which the wait was excruciating), a figure burst out from the thick undergrowth. It was Haldir. Haldir had come. And Haldir would heim. im. Haldir would make things right.

“What happened?” cried the older Elf as he sprinted up towards the shivering figure, struggling to thread water.

“Iruven. He fell,” sobbed Little Elf, his breath hitching in his throat. And with that, Haldir plunged into the depths of the pool.

Legolas’ young muscles were cramping up and he could barely keep afloat. The cold seemed to pierce him through the very bone and every breath he took brought about pain in his chest. He struggled to the shore and dragged himself out of the water. He waited, his heart pounding in his breast, and his chest heaved with every breath he took.

After what seemed like eternity, Haldir’s head burst from the water surface. Iruven was in his arms. The baby’s eyes were closed. He was not breathing. Legolas leapt to his feet, nearly tugging his hair out in worry.

“How is he? Why is he sleeping?” Legolas cried as Haldir laid Iruven on solid ground. Legolas reached to gto gently slap Iruven’s face. There was no movement. Quickly Haldir bent his ear to the baby’s face, listening for any signs of breathing. There were none. So the Elf proceeded to blow air into the still figure, at the same time trying to pump the water from the baby’s chest.

“Wake up, Iruven. Wake up,” Legolas murmured, wrapping his arms around himself as he rocked frantically to and fro.

And then the baby’s chest heaved. Once. Twice. And he coughed up water from his lungs. Haldir helped the baby up to an upright position, as Iruven retched, shuddering as the cold water slipped from his mouth. Haldir murmured soothingly and Iruven began to cry. The baby reached out for Legolas and Little Elf grabbed him, hugging him to his chest. Haldir wrapped his arms around both Elves. And for a while, they just said there in silence…

**********

The silence that greeted them was deafening as shocked eyes regarded the three bedraggled figure walking slowly through the great hall. Baby Iruven was carried by Haldir with one hand and the other held Legolas’ as Little Elf walked meekly by his side. One had only to look at the baby’s blue skin and Legolas’ frightened expression to know what happened. And so the King and the Prince was summoned.

Pe Ame Amras rushed towards his son, wrapping him up with his cloak, trying to rub warmth into the cold skin. He left without a word – without so much of a backward glance towards Legolas as he whispered words of love to the shivering Baby. The King stood before Haldir and Legolas, also not saying a word.

“It was an accident, my liege,” Haldir began, his arms stretched out in appeal. “Please forgive him.” The King’s cold eyes fixed themselves upon Haldir and slid towards Legolas who was clutching the back of Haldir’s tunic, his teeth chattering both with the cold and fear.

“Leave. All of you. I wish to speak to him,” he said, his voice deceivingly soft, the expression in his eyes kept blank. And that was how Legolas knew that Adar was most displeased with him.

Haldir balked but at the corner of his eye he saw Rumil and Orophin’s solemn faces. And so he bowed stiffly. With a last lingering look at Legolas, he left the hall with his brothers. All who were in the hall at that point of time left also and the great door closed behind them, leaving Legolas alone with his father.

The first crack of the palm to his face was expected. But it stunned him all the same, causing his head to snap back with the sheer force of it. Legolas held his stinging cheek, his eyes wide and brimming.

“I’m sorry Adar. I’m sorry. So sorry,” he murmured repeatedly, his voice choked with tears. It took two more blows to make him cry and three more to bring him down on all fours, crouching before his father, and his hands were over his head trying to protect his face.

“You could have killed Iruven,” hissed Adar, and Legolas just stayed on the floor, accepting his punishment, his body tensed in anticipation for each blow. And it hurt. Legolas did not know how long he could take it. He knelt before Thranduil, begged him for forgiveness and even threw his arms around his father’s waist as how he usually did in manner of apology. But Adar flung him off as if he were a filthy dog. And Legolas fell once more on all fours.

“I’m sorry Adar. I love you. Please, don't! I'm sorry!,” he cried out with every downward movement of his Father’s palm to his face. But his father would not listen.

“My lord, please! No more! I’m sorry! I’m sorry, my liege,” he screamed, his young voice shrill and filled with anguish. But the King did not listen, and so Little Elf screamed for his mother.

Nana came just when Legolas thought that he would pass out from the pain. Her attendants tried to hold her back. They tried to protect her from the King’s wrath but she broke free, her golden hair streaming behind her as she rushed towards her son.

“No my lord! He is just a child!” she cried, tears streaming down her face as she knelt next to Legolas, her arms wrapped themselves around his trembling body, trying to protect Little Elf. Trying to take the blows for her son.

“Leave us, Annariel!” Thranduil snapped, his eyes now flashing with anger, his palm raised in preparation for another blow.

“Nay! Do not hurt him!” she screamed, her arm rising to push the King’s hand away. Thranduil leaned down to grab Legolas away from his mother. ‘Crack. Crack.’ Went his palm and both mother and son screamed their anguish. Annariel tried to push Legolas behind her and some of the blows landed on her body. But she did not care.

“Leave!” Thranduil roared and his palm curled into a loose fist. The blow was meant for Legolas but Annarielll sll stood before her son, trying to shield him. With a loud oath, he dragged her away roughly. Annariel lost her balance and she fell, her forehead striking against the ground. There was a stunned silence and then Legolas cried out, his lone voice strident and filled with anger.

“Nay! Kill me if you must, my lord, if it pleases you. But do not hurt my mother!” he shrieked, covering the Nana’s motionless figure with his small body, trying to protect her.

Thranduil just stared at Annariel and Legolas. Stared at the son, clinging to his mother. Stared at the blood that had begun to seep from Annariel’s wound. He stared for a long time and Legolas stared back. It was as if he were looking in a mirror. And all the pain that his memory brought came back in full force. In his mind he saw not Legolas holding onto his mother but him, clinging to his dead son.

The King took a step backward. And then another. And then like a leaf being blown away in the wind, he disappeared into the shadows…

**********

Legolas lay on Nana’s bed, curling up next to his mother, looking intently at her pale face. The worst was over and the wound upon his mother’s head had healed. All that was left was an ugly, purple bruise. And Legolas felt his eyes filling with tears once more as he lifted his fingers to stroke his mother’s face. Annariel held Legolas tightly, her own throat seemed to constrict with emotions.

“Why does he not love us, Nana?” came the whisper. “Why does he not love me?”

Annariel did not know what to say. And so she looked away so that Legolas could not see the truth in her eyes.

“Of course he does, Little Elf. How could anyone not love you?” she murmured, stroking his hair. Legolas was silent.

“He pushed me away,” he choked out suddenly. “He pushed me away when I tried to hold him, Nana.”

“He did not mean to do it. One does strange and hurtful things when they are angered.”

Silence.

“If there was one who loved me, I would never push them away. I would love them back.”

“It is a wonde thi thing to love and be loved in return. Not all of us are able to have that kind of love, Little Elf.”

Legolas looked up into his mother’s face, his eyes were solemn.

“Will I find a love like that, Nana?”

“My Little Elf. The one who will love you will also worship you. And you must settle for no less then that.”

Legolas snuggled closed to his mother.

“I wish we were in Lothlorien, with our people. They would love us more, I think,” he whispered, reaching out to play with a lock of Nana’s hair. And again Annariel did not know what to say. She kissed his fingers and his face tenderly.

“Sing to me of Nimrodel, Nana,” he whispered, his eyes fluttering close with exhaustion. And Annariel did, her sweet voice lulling Little Elf into slumber…

**********

The sound of the door being opened awakened Legolas. He cracked open an eye and what he saw caused him to sit bolt upright. The King was standing at the door. Legolas’ eyes shot towards his mother in apprehension. Annariel did not look at her son, her narrowed gaze fixed upon Thranduil.

There was a short silence upon which Annariel and Thranduil continued to gaze at one another.

“Leave us, Legolas,” said Thranduil. And Legolas became afraid, clutching Nana desperately as a whimper escaped from his lips.

“Do as he says, Little Elf,” Nana said, her voice reassuring and gentle. Legolas stepped out of the bed, wincing a little at the pain. He strode rds rds the King, not meeting his eyes. With a solemn bow, he limped away, closing the door behind him.

“You never called him by his name before,” Annariel said, the trembling in her voice revealed the anger and sorrow that she carried in her heart.

Thranduil said nothing but moved slowly towards Annariel, as if he were approaching a bird that would fly away if he made any sudden movements. He sat next to her on the bed, his eyes never taking off those beautiful green eyes. His lif lif lifted to caress the mark on her forehead. And then he froze. Annariel was pressing a dagger right at his throat.

“I never want to see you touch my son again. Ever!” she hissed. Thranduil was silent, his thoughtful gaze fixed upon Annariel. Her lips quivered.

“He is all I have, my lord. You will be blessed with many grandchildren in the future. But Legolas is all I have. Do not take him away from me,” she said. She was crying but her tears were silent. Thranduil moved his face closer to hers, and the dagger pricked the soft skin of his neck, drawing blood.

They kissed and Annariel dropped the weapon. Thranduil lingered over her, touching and caressing her to the peak of her fulfilment. Every now and again, he would brush his lips across her forehead and when he bent down to suckle at her breast; Annariel would grab him desperately, her hands running over those broad, strong shoulders. It was the first time she was allowed to do so. It was also the first time that Thranduil stayed with her the entire night, holding her close to his heart as the last shivers of completion melt away from her body.

Annariel understood that it was the closest thing to an apology that she would get.

And outside the room, a small figure sat with his arms wrapped around himself, rocking to and fro.

to be continued...

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