Feud

Feud
http://feud.shadowess.com
By erobey: robey61@yahoo.com
Disclaimers: see initial chapter
Thanks: to all the readers and especially to Sarah for her beta work. Any remaining errors are only mine!

Chapter 51: Tôl Bar Crebain an Idh [The Crows Come Home to Roost.]
Part One

Legolas leaned against Fearfaron, one arm encircling the older elf's abdomen, fingers digging somewhat painfully into his waist, and the other wrapped around his shoulders. Out of bed for the first time in three days, the archer was garbed in a long, soft bathing robe of spun silk lined in finely woven wool, dyed emerald green, while the outside was a pristine white purer than winter's first snows. The loose garment was held closed with a wide braided belt of matching green silk, and was carelessly tied just enough to keep the covering from slipping off. Legolas panted with every hopping step forward, left leg carefully angled at the knee to keep his foot clear of any jarring contact with the rough stone floor that might aggravate the stitched wound.

Because the wrap belonged to the carpenter, it was too long for the smaller elf and Fearfaron held it up, slippery fabric bunched together in one fist, to prevent Legolas from stumbling on the dragging hem. While assisting his foster son awkwardly across the room, Fearfaron had to be cautious of where he gripped onto the woodland warrior, for the tear in his side was just healing up and could not be disturbed. There was also a much shallower laceration on Legolas' hip, making a solid handhold even more difficult. Yet somehow he managed to support the wounded elf without allowing Legolas to bear any weight upon the torn thigh muscles.

Even so, the journey of these few steps between the bedside and the bathing room was strenuous for the archer and harrowing for Fearfaron. He would have preferred to keep his foster son down for at least another full day, but Legolas steadfastly refused to empty his bladder in a chamber pot, even when Fearfaron had sent everyone else from the suite. No reason for such obstinacy would the former prince give.

The carpenter sighed in resignation; he really could not see what difference it made whether the commode was in one room or another, but Legolas had remained adamant in his demands. Fearfaron supposed he should be pleased to note his adopted son's irritable mood, for it was a good indicator of returning health. If he was able to give so much effort to complaining, Legolas must be in far less pain and feeling much stronger. Fearfaron knew Legolas despised being confined, and hated even more requiring help with these most basic of the body's functions.

"Slowly, Legolas, there is no need to hurry! I fear you will fall or exhaust yourself!"

"There is a very good reason to be quick!"

"That would not be the case if you would comply with Gladhadithen's instructions and allow an appropriate receptacle to be brought in here!"

"Nay! I would not be so pressured to rapidity had you lent me this robe earlier! If I come to harm it is your fault, Fearfaron, for keeping me captive and unclothed!"

"Hush, I will not let you come to harm! Just rest a moment here against the bureau; we are almost there."

"Ada, I cannot!" Legolas snapped and continued his shuffling hop-step towards the doorway, regarding the threshold of the unremarkable room with a feeling of grim determination usually reserved for far more desperate situations. Never had so humble a destination proved so challenging a goal to achieve!

At last they entered the room and Legolas was finally able to tend to nature's demands satisfactorily, though having Fearfaron support his weight during the procedure was humiliating. He let his foster father help him over to the bath and seat him on the broad, sanded rim of the wooden tub to catch his breath. Fearfaron held him carefully until he was certain Legolas was stable, braced up on his arms, and not stressing the injuries.

"Wait a moment; I have clothing for you. You may as well have it since you refuse to be reasonable and remain in bed!" the carpenter fussed as he turned and walked back into the bedroom.

He returned to find Legolas breathing more normally but with head bowed and eyes shut, a distinct pallor to his features that bespoke a profound fatigue. Under the gleam of the single oil lantern hanging from a hook driven into the stone, a filmy sheen of sweat shown, coating his face and neck. His arms were trembling just slightly from the effort to bear his weight and keep him upright, absorbing any pressure that might disturb his injured side and leg, and looked as though they might fail in the endeavour any moment.

Fearfaron hurried over and sat down next to him, quickly reaching an arm around Legolas' shoulders so that he would not have to hold himself up any longer. The relieved gasp that left the younger elf's lungs as he sagged against the carpenter was ample proof that ambulatory activity would have to be restricted for some days still. Fearfaron refrained from scolding, however, and just held on to Legolas firmly. After a few minutes, Legolas lifted his head and met his foster father's compassionate gaze with a weary smile.

"I will try not to worry you; I will stay in bed except for this," he promised.

"Good!" Fearfaron grinned and taking up a washcloth from the tub used the opportunity to wipe away the clammy perspiration from Legolas' face. Then he held up the clothing he had brought for Legolas' inspection.

The trousers were loosely made for sleeping, woven from raw silk, and constructed with a wrap front so that they were easily opened to attend the body's needs. The open fly oappeapped, with one panel in front of the other, and long ties attached to each. On the left side of the trousers, in the waistband, a slit had been cut and finished to accommodate the tie end of the inner flap. This belt then passed around the waist at the back to be knotted to the outer fly's corresponding sash on the right.

A soft tunic of the identical material was tailored in the same manner, made to wrap in the front and knot at the side. The sleeves were long ande, de, slightly flared at the wrists, and attached to a dropped shoulder for loose fitting comfort. Both pieces were lined with soft lightweight wool material that added warmth, for the caverns remained cool year round, and prevented any seams from irritating the skin. The garments were died a deep yellow colour and were cheerful and bright.

Legolas was careful to smile and nod approval, for he knew that his foster father had gone to some trouble to have these things ma The The silk was not cheap to purchase and even more costly to have dyed, woven into cloth, and turned into finished garments. The wool was also expensive, as the elves did not keep livestock of their own and had to trade with the woodsmen or the Men of Dale for the fleece. He realised Fearfaron must have bartered for this service, for he was not one to charge much for his carpentry skills and could not afford these things otherwise. The outcast prince had no wish to seem ungrateful or critical of this gift.

In reality, however, Legolas thought the clothes far too similar to something a child would have to wear. Only an elfling too young to be able to get dressed without help would be garbed in such apparel. He distinctly remembered having outfits just like this when he was so small he could barely walk and was barred from stairways. In spite of his good intentions, Legolas' stoic smile slip-shifted into a darkling scowl as he viewed tarisarish hue of sunny gold with distaste.

{How can he expect me to put these on?}

"I know you are displeased now," Fearfaron could not help a small laugh at the doleful expression that quickly won dominance over the forced, polite smile on the archer's countenance. "Yet in very little time you will come to appreciate why I had the clothes made like this! Come on, I will help you get into them."

{Indeed, it is no mystery! He has found a clever way to keep my confinedwoulwould not be seen in such nightdress or this ridiculous colour!}

Reluctantly, the Tawarwaith accepted the aid and the covering, for it was either that or remain swathed in the over-sized robe that kept slipping open and revealing too much. In the forest, he had experienced no embarrassment from being so scantily clad, for he was always, barring recent events, alone. Here in the heart of the Woodland folks' city, Legolas felt his lack of appropriate apparel acutely and was reminded forcefully that he was not allowed to don the Greenwood's signature combination of sienna and sage shaded cloth.

In no time he was dressed and gripped Fearfaron's shoulder to pull himself upright once more. The craftsman would not permit this, however, and lifted Legolas easily into his arms, careful not to press the injured side against him.

"Nay, do not even say one word of complaint, Legolas! You have had enough exercise, and I refuse to allow anymore argument! I compromised on your demand for privacy in order to relieve yourself, now you must do the same with my request that you rest abed for the remainder of the day."

"I am not arguing, complaining, or demanding!" Legolas replied as he leaned his brow against Fearfaron's head. Now that the clothes were on, he found great comfort in the sensation of the material against his skin, a tangible reminder that he was cared for and loved. He was also pleased he whe warmth the clothing provided; for in his weakened state he felt the change in temperature between the outside and the underground rooms keenly. He had been chilled without even realising it. But for the tint of the material, he could be quite satisfied with his new garments.

He complied wordlessly as Fearfaron settled him propped up upon the pillows with the covers over his lap and other than a murmured 'thank you' continued the silence, for he could tell there was something bothering his foster father.

Fearfaron sighed and glanced quickly at Legolas, climbing up and again seating himself next to the archer, back against the headboard. He reached around Legolas' shoulders and gently pulled him closer so that he could rest his chin on the younger elf's head and sighed in contentment to feel the fuzzy locks nestled into the crook of his neck as Legolas relaxed against him. Still the carpenter remained quiet, uncertain exactly how to bring up more ill news.

Legolas stifled a slightly irked sough.

"Please just tell me."

"I fear that you will be angry over this, and that I am the cause of it!" the gentle craftsman began. "You know I would never do or say anything that would bring you harm, yet unwittingly I have done so!"

"I will not be angry with you; I understand you mean only to help. What is it?" Edgy impatience marred the carefully chosen words of the Tawarwaith.

"I have met with Iarwain, and have shown him the letter you sent to me from the woodsmen's village. He is outraged at the interference from the Noldor interlopers, and is aware of who the elves are. The Council will draft a claim against Imladris for this cause."

"What? Nay, I do not want any of that known! I will never see them again, and the wrongs need not be addressed! What good can come of this, for the acts cannot be undone, and I would not have this be public, Fearn!"n!" Legolas was shocked; it was not what he had been expecting at all. "Why did you do this?" he wailed in misery as he pulled back to search his foster father's eyes for the answer.

And then confusion invaded his thoughts, for how coulrwairwain comprehend what elves he had encountered, for at the time he had written to Fearfaron, Legolas himself did not have that knowledge. Cold dread joined the bewilderment. "Fearfaron?"

"Please try to understand, Legolas, I had no choice in the matter! Your letter was not the only one sent here with the woodsman. Remember the communication I spoke of between Elrond and Thranduil; it arrived the same day and reveals all. Thranduil plans to use the document to discredit you before the Council and our people. He is feeling threatened by the growing regard the Woodland folk hold for you, especially among his troops!"

With concern Fearfaron observed the archer's crestfallen features as the doubt gave way to an expression of betrayal and hurt that was unbearable even to look upon, for Fearfaron was uncertain whether he was the perpetrator of this reaction or the Noldo Lord. The carpenter tugged Legolas back into his embrace and held him tightly.

"Forgive me for bringing this upon you; it was never my intent to increase your distress!" he implored.

"Nay, it is not of your doing and you need not plead for pardon!"

Legolas' mind struggled to encompass all the woe that had been conveyed in these few simple words. That Thranduil still treated his existence as a personal affront was nothing unexpected, yet going to such extremes to eradicate the banished warrior from the King's reality was a surprise. The idea of Thranduil viewing Legolas as an opponent was a disturbing twist the archer had never considered possible.

However, it was the revelation of Elrond's rejuvenated hostility that shook the wild warrior's fragile composure. What motive could the renowned healer and veteran of the Last Alliance have for bringing greater shame upon an elf already outcast and shunned by his own people? How could the degradation the Noldo had already dealt him not have been sufficient? And from what stemmed this craving to humiliate him? Legolas wondered when the Elf Lord would have chosen to reveal his real identity, had trchercher not fled from the enchanted glade.

"Elrond did this? Does he tell why? We had put some of the rancour between us aside before we parted, or so I believed. What does this letter say, Fearfaron?"

"It is not complimentary, so I can only assume the attempt at settling your differences was false on his part, as were all his interactions with you. I have never read anything like it before, and hope never to again. It is not the sort of document one expects a noble ancient to commit to record, for it is more telling of his character's deficiencies than yours!

"As to why, that is equally despicable. Legolas, Elrond knows you are Thranduil's own child. From what Thranduil indicated, it was Elrond who first cast doubts upon your parentage, and with a method even I would be hard put to ignore! Suffice it to say this is not the first time he has sent so timely a message to the King!

"He has done this as a means to destroy Thranduil's peace of mind. He was ever the target, and you have been the Elf Lord's weapon of choice. Elrond did not care that he would ruin you while he pursued his malicious game. He stole from you the life you were born to live and removed any chance of belonging to a loving family. And he wanted to make it clear to Thranduil exactly how well he had achieved his goal. His obsession with this vendetta must be consuming his soul. This letter is so vindictive!

"I will not repeat any of it to you; these are not words you need to hear. If I can prevent it, I will keep Thranduil from offering the communication for public perusal. However, there is no way to stop the grievance from being formally presented to Imladris, and possibly to Lothlorien and Mithlond as well."

Hearing this Legolas groaned and shook his head against Fearfaron's shoulder in futile denial.

"The Council will not allow so blatant an attempt to compromise our borders go unchallenged. I will do all I can to keep the focus on the intention of the Elf Lord to make you turn against your own people while leaving the methods he employed out.

"Iarwain is sympathetic, and understands Thranduil's motives in this. He will assist me in any way possible to keep that letter from being read into public record or being incorporated into the demand for an accounting from Elrond for his actions.

"But I will not lie or mislead you. If Thranduil wishes it, he can make this known at any time, for he is in possession of the missive. Also, once the complaint is delivered, there is no way of perceiving how Elrond will respond to it. He may choose to defend himself by attacking your character and debasing your nature, even as he has done in this letter." Fearfaron felt Legolas cringe at these words and soothingly stroked his hand against the beleaguered elf's shoulder in commiseration.

"Ai! Fearfaron, I never thought my actions would lead to such harsh reprisals! I should never have allowed this to happen!"

golagolas, you are not to blame yourself for these things! It is not wrong to feel such attractions or to act on them. For long years have you been alone, even before you were removed from contact with any of your kind. It is natural that upon encountering elves you would be drawn to them and seek solace from them, if such was offered. I am fairly confident in saying you were not the one to initiate sex, correct?" Fearfaron sighed as he felt the brief movement of Legolas' head assenting to this statement.

"You are not bound to anyone, Legolas, despite what you feel regarding Maltahondo. You and he are not mated one to the other. His intentions we shall deal with separately," the carpenter felt the shiver that coursed through Legolas' body and hurried past the dangerous topic.

"That these elves were deceitful was not possible for you to understand, for they planned only to use you from the outset. That idea is so completely foreign it would never enter your thoughts, Legolas, I am happy to say, and yet your own honest outlook has been twisted into a weapon against you now! This Iarwain saw plainly, and Mithrandir also attested to the same, explaining how Aragorn was the bearer of these unpleasant tidings.

"And I must say that I feel Elrond should be made to face the consequences for his base manipulations of an innocent heart. Never have you done anything to cause him to despise you snd ind in fact I believe you held him in some regard. It is well he is not of our people, or I would already have driven him into exile for his actions, if only to prevent myself from committing him to Mandos Halls!"

As Fearfaron finished this lecture, Legolas felt his own anger growing to match his foster father's. The reasoning the carpenter supplied to account for the Lord of Imladris' bitter hatred toward him added to the sense of non-existence Legolas had experienced with Elrond. Memories flooded his psyche and in vain he tried to push them away, but the image of their last coupling presented itself in vivid detail such that Legolas' stomach wrenched uncomfortably in response.

He had wanted to give and receive pleasure and consolation, nothing more, yet in some way Elrond had deemed this desire an affront.

{Because he viewed me as he would a common prostitute among Men. I was to satisfy his purpose; my needs were irrelevant!}

Legolas could not understand then what he had done that was so repugnant, so offensive as to generate the intensity of the Noldo's subsequent cruelty. In fact, he had done nothing to warrant such treatment. Comprehending this did nothing to alleviate the intensity of the tainted shame attached to their intercourse. Elrond's mocking laughter and sarcastic, cutting words rang through his mind.

{'No need to be so distraught, pen-rhovan, with more practice you will improve, I am certain! It was enjoyable nonetheless.'}

The conclusion was as inescapable now as it had been then: Elrond had enjoyed hurting and humiliating him just for the pleasure of being able to indulge such baseness uncontested, and he had undoubtedly hoped to repeat the experience if possible.

It seemed he had found a way to do so, even far removed from the wild elf in the secluded haven of Imladris.

Continued in Part Two.