Winnowing
folder
-Multi-Age › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
6
Views:
3,237
Reviews:
21
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Multi-Age › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
6
Views:
3,237
Reviews:
21
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
3
***Author's Note: Thank you all for your reviews. I very much appreciate them! Also, a WARNING, this chapter contains some battlefield imagery.***
Legolas quickly found himself being scrubbed clean by the Lord of Imladris. The shock of that was enough to bring him out of his daze.
“My Lord, really, I can bathe myself,” he offered, sheepishly.
Elrond raised an eyebrow but said nothing, scrubbing away the splotches of dirt on Legolas’ back and arms and bringing the natural color back to his skin.
“Young Prince, you forget I am a healer and have given many baths in the past,” he said, finally.
“I am not wounded.”
“Indeed.”
Legolas blinked and found himself at a loss for words. His weak protests were getting him nowhere. Elrond’s hands were gentle and soothing on his neglected skin, but never lustful. The Lord of Imladris settled Legolas down on the edge of thb anb and began to wash his legs, going carefully over scrapes and scratches and slightly older wounds that were still pink with new scar tissue. After cleaning the golden skin of any remaining dirt, Elrond lifted up a brush and went to work getting out the dirt from beneath Legolas’ nails.
The Prince showed signs of having been in the wood and away from any form of civilization for quite some time, Elrond noted, looking down at the cloudy water and bits of floating twigs and leaves. It was highly unlike an Elf to a him himself to get dirty. Indeed, Elrond had been accused of repelling dirt in the past.
The Imladris Lord left the tub for a few moments to fetch a few fresh pitchers of water to wash Legolas’ hair. He collected a comb along the way and was soon at work combing out the tangles and washing debris out of the thick mass of blonde hair.
“You begin to look like an Elf again, Legolas,” Elrond stepped back, admiring his work. Yet Elves did not usually look so very sad… “Come, the water grows chill. Out of the tub.”
When Legolas stepped from the water, Elrond wrapped a towel around his body and began briskly rubbing the other’s skin. He was pleasantly reminded of bathing his own children before they had grown, and a smile graced his lips. Of course, bathing his own children had usually resulted in a good deal more water on the outside of the tub.
The Elf Lord helped Legolas into a robe before he dried his own body and slipped into his own clothes. It troubled him that the Prince, who could usually carry on a conversation with ease, was so quiet. He decided to bring up nothing for now, and instead let Legolas recover himself before they talked in detail.
“Come back into your rooms and I will send for some food. You must be hungry.”
Once again, he took the Prince by the arm and led him back through the doorway, though Legolas was a good deal more steady. It seemed that the bath had rejuvenated him at least a bit.
Elrond sat Legolas in a chair by the window with a small table before it. The fresh air would do the Elf Prince some good and the calming view stretched over waterfalls and vibrant treetops. But Legolas’ eyes were unfocused and not on the window at all. He stared aimlessly at a wall as Elrond frowned and then went to fetch a servant for a plate of cold meats, bread, fruit, and a bottle of miruvor. His requests were quickly granted and soon he set a plate and goblet before Legolas, offering the more succulent morsels to the Prince to see if he could tempt him.
Legolas nibbled on a crust of bread still warm from the ovens while Elrond poured him half a glass of cordial.
“Drink, Prince Legolas, it will refresh you.”
Legolas obediently put down his bread and took a sip or two from the goblet before replacing it on the table.
“I will not have you starve to death in fair Imladris,” Elrond fixed him with a stern look, “you must eat.”
Legolas stared down at his plate and looked rather ill.
“Is the food not to your liking?” Elrond reached across the table and laid a hand on the Elf Prince’s arm.
The Prince of Mirkwood did not hear him. His eyes were fixed on the plate as though he were mesmerized. The scent of food turned his stomach, especially the slightly charred meat. Legolas had not been able to stomach the taste or smell of meat since he left the battlefields of the Wf thf the Ring. There he had seen such sights…. Corpses of Men and Elves battered bloody and lifeless, pecked apart by crows, missing limbs or bowels, but the burning ones had bothered him the most. He had seen the smoldering bodies on the field, charred and blistered, the acrid smell penetrating the air. He could still smell it, months later, as though he still stood there on the field.
“Legolas.”
The sound of his name brought him back to reality and he turned away from the plate. “I apologize,” his voice was nearly a whisper. “I find I am not very hungry, Lord Elrond.”
Elrond was not pleased to see Legolas refuse the food, but he did not press the issue. The younger Elf had looked as though he would be ill at the very sight of the plate.
“Will you drink the miruvor?”
“Yes,” Legolas nodded, closing his eyes. “The Cordial of Imladris sooths me.”
A small smile crossed Elrond’s lips, and he cleared away the uneaten food, leaving the goblet in front of Legolas. He deposited the dishes outside the door. “It should revitalize you as well, but many find its properties soothing to the overworked mind and body.”
Legolas looked much less green with the food gone, and he nodded again though remained silent. Yet he still seemed so weary.
They sat in silence for a while, the Prince absently sipping from his goblet with a detached look on his face, while Elrond watched him protectively.
“I apologize,” Legolas said, finally. He knew he was not himself, and yet he felt so helpless.
“You have nothing to be sorry for. Imladris is open to all who seek solace and recuperation.” Elrond stood and smoothed his robes. “I shall leave you to rest some more, if you wish it.”
“I…Lord Elrond…” Legolas’ unasked question hung in the air between them.
“If there is something you wish of me, youngest Prince of Mirkwood, you need only ask.”
“I have many fond memories of your voice in the Hall of Fire before we departed on the Ringquest.”
“You wish me to sing to you?”
The Prince nodded and Elrond smiled. He allowed Legolas to make himself more comfortable on the bed before he pulled up a chair beside him. Giving Legolas’ arm a reassuring squeeze, he sang a slow and lighthearted ballad as the Elf Prince slowly relaxed into sleep.
Legolas quickly found himself being scrubbed clean by the Lord of Imladris. The shock of that was enough to bring him out of his daze.
“My Lord, really, I can bathe myself,” he offered, sheepishly.
Elrond raised an eyebrow but said nothing, scrubbing away the splotches of dirt on Legolas’ back and arms and bringing the natural color back to his skin.
“Young Prince, you forget I am a healer and have given many baths in the past,” he said, finally.
“I am not wounded.”
“Indeed.”
Legolas blinked and found himself at a loss for words. His weak protests were getting him nowhere. Elrond’s hands were gentle and soothing on his neglected skin, but never lustful. The Lord of Imladris settled Legolas down on the edge of thb anb and began to wash his legs, going carefully over scrapes and scratches and slightly older wounds that were still pink with new scar tissue. After cleaning the golden skin of any remaining dirt, Elrond lifted up a brush and went to work getting out the dirt from beneath Legolas’ nails.
The Prince showed signs of having been in the wood and away from any form of civilization for quite some time, Elrond noted, looking down at the cloudy water and bits of floating twigs and leaves. It was highly unlike an Elf to a him himself to get dirty. Indeed, Elrond had been accused of repelling dirt in the past.
The Imladris Lord left the tub for a few moments to fetch a few fresh pitchers of water to wash Legolas’ hair. He collected a comb along the way and was soon at work combing out the tangles and washing debris out of the thick mass of blonde hair.
“You begin to look like an Elf again, Legolas,” Elrond stepped back, admiring his work. Yet Elves did not usually look so very sad… “Come, the water grows chill. Out of the tub.”
When Legolas stepped from the water, Elrond wrapped a towel around his body and began briskly rubbing the other’s skin. He was pleasantly reminded of bathing his own children before they had grown, and a smile graced his lips. Of course, bathing his own children had usually resulted in a good deal more water on the outside of the tub.
The Elf Lord helped Legolas into a robe before he dried his own body and slipped into his own clothes. It troubled him that the Prince, who could usually carry on a conversation with ease, was so quiet. He decided to bring up nothing for now, and instead let Legolas recover himself before they talked in detail.
“Come back into your rooms and I will send for some food. You must be hungry.”
Once again, he took the Prince by the arm and led him back through the doorway, though Legolas was a good deal more steady. It seemed that the bath had rejuvenated him at least a bit.
Elrond sat Legolas in a chair by the window with a small table before it. The fresh air would do the Elf Prince some good and the calming view stretched over waterfalls and vibrant treetops. But Legolas’ eyes were unfocused and not on the window at all. He stared aimlessly at a wall as Elrond frowned and then went to fetch a servant for a plate of cold meats, bread, fruit, and a bottle of miruvor. His requests were quickly granted and soon he set a plate and goblet before Legolas, offering the more succulent morsels to the Prince to see if he could tempt him.
Legolas nibbled on a crust of bread still warm from the ovens while Elrond poured him half a glass of cordial.
“Drink, Prince Legolas, it will refresh you.”
Legolas obediently put down his bread and took a sip or two from the goblet before replacing it on the table.
“I will not have you starve to death in fair Imladris,” Elrond fixed him with a stern look, “you must eat.”
Legolas stared down at his plate and looked rather ill.
“Is the food not to your liking?” Elrond reached across the table and laid a hand on the Elf Prince’s arm.
The Prince of Mirkwood did not hear him. His eyes were fixed on the plate as though he were mesmerized. The scent of food turned his stomach, especially the slightly charred meat. Legolas had not been able to stomach the taste or smell of meat since he left the battlefields of the Wf thf the Ring. There he had seen such sights…. Corpses of Men and Elves battered bloody and lifeless, pecked apart by crows, missing limbs or bowels, but the burning ones had bothered him the most. He had seen the smoldering bodies on the field, charred and blistered, the acrid smell penetrating the air. He could still smell it, months later, as though he still stood there on the field.
“Legolas.”
The sound of his name brought him back to reality and he turned away from the plate. “I apologize,” his voice was nearly a whisper. “I find I am not very hungry, Lord Elrond.”
Elrond was not pleased to see Legolas refuse the food, but he did not press the issue. The younger Elf had looked as though he would be ill at the very sight of the plate.
“Will you drink the miruvor?”
“Yes,” Legolas nodded, closing his eyes. “The Cordial of Imladris sooths me.”
A small smile crossed Elrond’s lips, and he cleared away the uneaten food, leaving the goblet in front of Legolas. He deposited the dishes outside the door. “It should revitalize you as well, but many find its properties soothing to the overworked mind and body.”
Legolas looked much less green with the food gone, and he nodded again though remained silent. Yet he still seemed so weary.
They sat in silence for a while, the Prince absently sipping from his goblet with a detached look on his face, while Elrond watched him protectively.
“I apologize,” Legolas said, finally. He knew he was not himself, and yet he felt so helpless.
“You have nothing to be sorry for. Imladris is open to all who seek solace and recuperation.” Elrond stood and smoothed his robes. “I shall leave you to rest some more, if you wish it.”
“I…Lord Elrond…” Legolas’ unasked question hung in the air between them.
“If there is something you wish of me, youngest Prince of Mirkwood, you need only ask.”
“I have many fond memories of your voice in the Hall of Fire before we departed on the Ringquest.”
“You wish me to sing to you?”
The Prince nodded and Elrond smiled. He allowed Legolas to make himself more comfortable on the bed before he pulled up a chair beside him. Giving Legolas’ arm a reassuring squeeze, he sang a slow and lighthearted ballad as the Elf Prince slowly relaxed into sleep.