TRYING TO PUSH THE PAST AWAY

BOOK TWO

DISCLAIMER: I do not own "The Lord Of The Rings". Whole recognizable belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien. Written only for fun, no money made.

GENRE: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Romance

WARNINGS: AU! (Mind my words! You have been warned.) Legolas OOC. This story contains SLASH, means male/male relationship. Other than that, disturbing themes: angst, torture, violence, physical/mental/drug abuse, rape. Special warnings will be placed before each chapter.

For this one: flashbacks, and a small slashy surprise.^^

SUMMARY: Having freed himself from some of the burden, Legolas attempts to lead a normal life again. Thankful for his new friendships and touched by strange feelings towards his Master, he will have to withstand certain persons from his past, who are still intent on hurting him…

CHARACTERS: Legolas, Elrond, Glorfindel, Elladan & Elrohir, Erestor, Thrandruil, Gandalf, Lindir. Some persons I made up in addition.

TIMELINE: 2530 year of the Third Age. Celebrian has sailed over the sea twenty years ago. The new darkness is growing in Dol Guldur. Aragorn is not yet born.

FEEDBACK: Highly appreciated and desired! I try to answer every review.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The first chapter! Finally. I'm excited, truth be told, and a bit fearful about your opinions^^ Please, give me some feedback! I am so glad to be with you again. Next chapter will appear in two weeks time or so, I need to resit one more exam at the very end of September. Blah…

Enjoy!^^

Chapter 1 : CLEANSING

/*/

A shrilling, girlish peep of joy was heard when the two pairs of bare feet clapped on the stone floor. Two she-Elves jumped into the pool of hot, steamy water, wearing only white, short towels wrapped around them; the first laughed as the other started to splash water on her face and head, escaping from the imminent revenge by a dive underneath the surface. She emerged quickly though, spluttering and shaking the water off just like a dog, to create further fuss around her black-haired companion. Tall and supple like young birchwood trees, the girls were jumping in the water and swimming in small circles. Long legs paddled the water, sending it flying all around, creating wet stains on the grey stone.

The twin figures of Elves followed the example and stepped into the pool also, but with some more dignity. Trying to maintain a straight face, one of them settled for separating the ladies, when the other softly coaxed the last participator to join them in the water. The boys had the towels casually wrapped around their hips, but that last Elf – clearly nervous and uneasy – would gladly cover himself up to the tips of his pointed ears.

"Legolas, come on," Elladan encouraged. "There is nothing you should be ashamed of. Come."

As if coming to a decision, the Elf checked the secure wrapping of his towel for the hundredth time and slowly, hesitantly sat on the edge of the pool to gently lower himself into the water.

"It's hot," he murmured. "It really is hot. That's amazing."

"A hot spring. You have never used one before?" Elrohir asked. Legolas mumbled something, not looking him in the eye; Verién shot her cousin a look of endless pity. Surely a slave in Mirkwood could not count on a hot bath, not ever. Legolas' reaction was justified.

"The water from these springs is transported into the palace also," Arwen explained. "Special clay pipes distribute it around the place. The water is needed in the common baths, the healing wing and in the kitchens; though the kitchens rather use water from the well on the back courtyard. Ada needs water too, in the healing room and in his study, where he prepares the medicines."

"How come the water goes up the levels to his study?" Legolas asked, curious.

"Special pumps," Arwen smiled. "Erestor's design. Many of them. You had used common baths before, you know the water there is also warm. That is because the baths are located in the East Wing, very close to the springs."

Legolas nodded silently, wrapping his hands around him. He cowered in the corner of the pool and was slowly looking around the big cave they were in. The air was steamy; puffs of steam were obscuring the vision slightly, spreading a silver veil over the walls of grey, irregular stone. The ceiling was almost completely hidden behind the vapour, yet it could be recognized as one decorated with natural carvings of water trickling down the cave walls. Here and there, in special recesses filled with fertile soil, thick and tangled limbs of the evergreen ivy were creeping down to the floor or climbing upwards. Each of the three pools, specially adapted for the purpose of healing baths, was framed with wood on the edges and filled to the rim with the bubbling, pleasantly hot water, smelling slightly of moss and wet earth; one could stretch his arms to the sides and surrender himself to the benevolent bath. Elladan did just that, casting his head back with a blissful sigh.

"Indeed," he said slowly, "it is fortunate to have a hot spring nearby. It is great to come here and relax after a battle, reconnaissance or a hard training. The water has some healing properties, isn't that so?"

"Well, yes. The complement of the water contains calcium and magnesium." Arwen carried on, content of being asked, negligently splashing water on Verién, who made a face. "It is known for it's relaxing properties, anti-stress action and general remedy for exhaustion. It helps for migraine, insomnia and various neurosis, cures joint aches and other bone diseases known amidst human kind," she said.

"If it helps to cure nerves, it's good for Legolas," Elrohir judged. "Relax, mate. That's what we are here for. We have a day off. It is too cold already to go outside and spend the day there, libraries are dusty, and the kitchens crowded. This is the best place to be now."

"My nerves are fine." Legolas argued silently, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the water.

"They could be finer." Verién rubbed a itching point on her shoulder and advanced towards him, gently grasping his hand and pulling with her to the middle of the pool, on a deeper water. "Come on now. Is it because you can't swim or because we're all undressed?" she asked, holding him safely, but allowing him to feel how it feels like being carried by the water. His eyes widened at the experience.

"Both, I guess," he said quietly, holding onto her forearms. The twins also came closer.

"We can teach you how to swim," Elladan offered, reaching with his hands so that Legolas could catch them. "It's not that difficult. All you really have to do is to surrender to the water," he shrugged.

"It doesn't have to be now, now only enjoy yourself," Elrohir interrupted, seeing how Legolas immediately tensed. "Don't push him too far." He turned to his brother.

"I'm not pushing anybody!"

"Yes, you are, my obtuse brother." Elrohir snorted, reaching for Legolas, who hesitantly let go of the safe point of the other twin's arms and travelled to the first.

"And as for us being in towels only, there is really no reason to be ashamed," Arwen said gently.

"Easy for you to say," Verién snorted. "Each time I see you I go green from envy. How did you grow these?" she lit up in a smile, feeling up the towel on top of her swan breast. The twins cackled loudly, and even Legolas dared a little snicker.

"Naturally," Arwen pretended to be outraged. "As everything else, of course."

"The figure, the hair, and all this, this… make-up, dresses, odds and sods you use for your hair… how are you doing this?" Verién inquired, splashing water on her cousin, laughing good-heartedly.

"I'm being an Arwen." She raised her perfect eyebrows and gave Verién a look of utter victory.

Verién rolled her eyes, sighed and changed the point of interest quickly. She pulled Elladan's arm to come closer.

"Legolas, look. I want to show you something. Here," she pointed a long, fair scar on Elladan's back. "He got that in a battle with an orc horde in the South. For two weeks he was walking around in glory of a hero because of that wound." Elrohir burst into a mocking laughter, and his brother immediately grabbed him by the neck and forced to show a scar of his own.

"And this is a scar my jealous brother got when he was running away from his opponent on a friendly spar" Elladan said in a sneering tone, but stopped when a fist connected with his side and Elrohir started explaining on his own, trying to hold his twin underneath the water surface. General laughter issued, when the girls tried to separate the brothers and the splashes were sent high into the air.

"Every scar has its history," Verién smiled. "It is our past, they remind you that you have been fighting, no matter the outcome. Look at that," she showed him faint marks around her ankle. "I was trapped in snares, as a little girl I liked to roam the bushes a lot. But uncle Elrond managed to save my leg."

"Here, the orc arrow," Elladan pointed a darker patch of skin on his shoulder.

"An axe. It was the width of a hair that saved me" Elrohir presented a wide stripe on his left thigh.

"Or here. Wounds left by teeth are awful to heal," Verién grimaced and lifted the towel over her hip to show ragged marks creating an uneven pattern. "That was several years ago too... I don't have anything fresh, I'm afraid…" she said in a sad tone, what made the twins cackle again. "And you, Arwen? Show something of yours."

"I have no scars, luckily. I had one, very small, on my knee, but there is no trace left by now."

"It disappeared?" Legolas asked. "How?"

"With time." Arwen smiled broadly. "All the scars my brothers have are fairly recent, that's why they are still visible. But Elven skin heals to the point of disappearance of any bruises, scars, any marks blemishing it. And that is why your scars will one day fade too, and they will be fading until they are thoroughly gone."

Legolas was looking at her as if he saw her for the first time. Then his eyes slowly lit with hope he could not truly hide – and his arms, wrapped securely around his chest, loosened their hold.

"But… but Verién…" he hesitated and the hands lifted again.

"But Legolas, I'm not that Elven, you know," the girl created a small wave and sent it towards him.

"That means, I will be… like, normal again?"

"Legolas, you are normal," Elladan turned the Elf to himself and lifted his chin. "What we have been telling you?"

"I am a free, equal, worthy person who is being cared for and protected by his friends," Legolas recited, but turned his head away from Elladan's hand.

"But you know it's not about the memorizing thing?"

"You make me repeat it so many times a day I had to memorize it."

Verién sighed and dragged Legolas to the middle again.

"Listen, I think you are a really nice young Elf. Even with the scars." She offered kindly. "You have the most subtle face in Imladris, the most deep-blue eyes and hair that is golden silk. Your skin is ivory now, the colour of an almond, not ugly white, not covered with bruises. You are not skeleton-like any more, you are slim and shapely, but no longer malnourished. You can trust me, I'm a woman; you are handsome." She smiled at his disbelieving expression. "Ask Arwen if you don't believe me."

"Yes, you are," the black-haired Elf replied. "You are handsome, just like the other Elven boys around are handsome. But there is more to you, this unique aura, your behaviour and kindness, then your story and strength of spirit: and that combined makes you not only handsome, but beautiful."

Legolas lowered his eyes. He could not really agree with all that the girls were saying, but he understood the message. His cheeks reddened against his will, and the twins snorted with laughter, just like he predicted.

"But the truth is," Elladan said indicating the girls, "they are not the only ones that think so."

Legolas shot him a surprised glare.

"Well, exactly. I'm not going to mention a horde of household girls, but there is something more interesting. Just two days ago I eavesdropped a conversation," Elrohir said mysteriously looking carefully around the cave, but they were alone. "between Lindir and Lord Aegnor."

"Lord Lindir…?" Legolas asked slowly.

"Yes, the famous minstrel. He was enchanted by your voice, like he said, from the very first moment he heard it. In his opinion your voice is as beautiful as the rest of your body and it stands for a perfect confluence. And Lord Aegnor agreed wholeheartedly, adding that you are the most appetizing, intriguing Elf among all the free ones." Elrohir ended, hoping he didn't say too much. For the record, Lord Aegnor used the word 'juicy', but the twin thought that expression much too scary.

"They really said that…?" Legolas's eyes gone wide and his arms came around his body once more, tighter than before. He was just starting to like Lindir, who promised to show him how to play a harp, and the kind Lord Aegnor was quite an often guest in the kitchens lately, asking for tea and snacks to be brought to his chamber by Legolas personally.

"But don't be scared," Verién said immediately. "They're not going to do anything you do not consent to. Acknowledging beauty does not always lead to courting. And even if it did this time, it is very pleasant to be wooed."

"But, they are… they can…" Legolas stammered, feeling suddenly cold despite the hot and steamy water.

"Legolas, what we have been telling you?" Elrohir once again asked. Legolas turned to him, clearly irritated.

"That I am a free, equal…"

"Exactly!" Arwen stopped him. "Free and equal! They cannot just come to you, grab you and march away to rape you! Because you are free and you have a right to say: 'no thanks, go away and court another'. You have a right to disagree. And should they do anything that makes you uncomfortable, tell them so and they will back off. Besides, understand this, please: there is really nothing appealing in rape. Both of them would never think of forcing you that way. Because such an act is awful and holds no attraction to anybody who is sane."

Legolas sat in the pool with his head low, but the protective wrap of his arms loosened again.

"Alright," he nodded hesitantly. "But what can they do?"

"Oh," Arwen smiled. "Seek your company, take long walks with you, compliment you, offer little gifts or sweets or do things that would make you smile, show you their artwork like poems or songs or paintings or books, discuss with you what you have read, listened to or saw, laugh and joke, dance, well… invite you to eat together under the stars, or even steal kisses…"

The twins and Verién were looking at Arwen with a mix of disbelief and amusement on their faces. They all knew that Arwen would be most experienced in the matter, but they never supposed she can treat Legolas as her fellow blushing maiden.

"Our sister," Elrohir nodded proudly, patting her arm and showing her off. Legolas finally burst into laughter, and the rest followed.

"Anyway, you don't have to be afraid." Elrohir said. "They may not give you flowers, but they will surely do something to please you and make you like them, not the other way round."

"I understand now," Legolas said after a little while of silence. "It's alright."

"Tell me," Verién asked cautiously, "well, you… do you prefer men or women, Legolas?"

The twins and Arwen strained their ears to listen.

"Well, I…" Legolas obviously fidgeted. "Before, I mean… I have always thought I like men more. But I haven't been with anyone, so I don't know. And then… that happened, and I'm not so sure anymore."

"You don't have to be with anyone to check it, you simply know such things," Arwen said gently. "It's very common for males to like males. It's perfectly alright. And… what's your type?"

"Type?"

"Yeah. What would you like in your companion," Verién explained.

"You mean… from his looks?" his friends nodded. "Erm, maybe… oh but I really haven't thought about that…"

"You must have had." Elrohir smirked.

Legolas swallowed nervously. "Um… he could be… tall," he showed with his hand a point a bit above his head. "So that when he would… hug me…" he blushed crimson red, "I could lean in."

The girls nodded enthusiastically.

"It gives the feeling of safety." Arwen said.

"So it means that the short ones are counted out from the start?" Elladan inquired.

"Not really," Verién said, "but it's nice if the man is taller. Alright, what else, Legolas?"

"The… oh, I don't really know, it doesn't matter… if he was good to me would count," he squirmed. "Not to beat me, not to… just to be with me, help from time to time. Doesn't matter how he looks like."

"Is there someone in the household you find attractive?" Elladan silently asked. Elrohir and Arwen took sharp intakes of breath, but did not let their slight anxiety show.

"I don't know," the Elf replied, "I haven't been looking."

"What about Glorfindel? He is a dream," Verién said casually, but Legolas shook his head. "Why not?"

"He is so strong, so far above me," Legolas muttered.

"Lindir, Aegnor?"

Again a no. Legolas did find Lindir attractive, but he was distrustful. And his mind was already working on it's own, giving him totally unrealistic pictures of this certain attractive someone. Under his eyelids he saw exactly who was his ideal, a person he admired and felt strangely drawn to, somebody he wasn't afraid of, and even trusted. That's only natural I admire him, the Elf was thinking. After all, he is perfect. And this is even my duty to worship…

"Elrond?"

Legolas shot Arwen a look which was as much terrified as it was truthful. "No, of course not, how could I even think about Master like that!"

"Hey, give him a break," Elrohir suddenly spoke. "You interrogate like Gwaithtir does when patrolling the border. There is truth in that biddies are always only gossiping."

"We're merely curious" Arwen defended them. "And we're not going to spread any tales."

Elladan produced a splash of water onto his sister's face and soon the twins and Verién were involved in a water fight, but Legolas stayed behind. He was thinking about his Master and what he had just heard. He was beautiful. He had a unique aura. He was being considered attractive. He would be wooed and courted soon.

But he didn't want to be courted nor wooed, he didn't need that. All he really wanted was to stay in his Master's rooms and serve him with whatever he needed, and try to read more books from his huge library during his free time. He wanted to be close to only one Elf. And even if it meant he's not going to be given any gifts nor tokens, and nobody will try to steal kisses from him, that was more important, for that was safe, known, stable; the feeling of warmth and protection was overwhelming near his Master, and the kind gestures of the Lord were more than any possible caresses from other Elves. Simple, paternal stroke of his head gave Legolas all attention he needed. He craved affection, that was true, but he could not really accept it from anybody other than Elrond.

And maybe my friends, he thought with a smile. The twins were currently trying to keep Verién underwater, but weren't succeeding at all.

"May I ask you something?" Legolas spoke suddenly, worrying his lower lip.

"Sure, go ahead," Elrohir nodded happily, ignoring his cousin who jumped on his back and tried to bite off his ear.

"Approximately… when will these scars fade?" Legolas indicated his chest. The Elves sobered immediately and came closer with friendly worry on their faces. Verién let go of the twin's ear and fell off his back with a small squeak.

"Difficult to say… may I see your back?" Elrohir inquired gently. Legolas hesitated a second, but he nodded finally and turned his back to the twins, holding to the wooden rim of the pool. Elladan and Elrohir moved closer. Legolas felt a hand on his shoulder and flinched involuntarily, but quickly regained his composure and allowed to be touched.

The slender fingers traced the long scars spreading across his shoulders and back.

"It was a heavy whip," Elladan said quietly, "a single scourge made of leather, am I right?" Legolas nodded. He remembered all about the first whipping he received and the object of his torment.

"The scarring is deep in few places, where the skin had been broken, it seems. Well, here and also here the scars are big and they may take several years to disappear completely. Like, five, six years? That may be," the twin kept explaining softly, palpating the areas he was speaking about. "But the rest is not that bad, really. Your back will be flawless again."

"And what was this?" Elrohir asked, indicating the hideous burn of Legolas' side.

"A torch." The Elf said through the clenched teeth. He saw Verién creeping closer and holding his hand comfortingly, which he accepted gratefully.

"You couldn't do anything…?" Arwen asked sadly from behind.

"No," Legolas muttered, "I was tied down to a table of sorts."

Elrohir delicately ran his fingers through the white-ish, irregular patches of skin. "This is pretty bad. I'm afraid this may… stay."

"Permanently?" Legolas' eyes were sad and so Elrohir bit his lower lip, thinking of an answer that would not sound as a lost case.

"It really depends," Elladan came with help. "I know an Elf who had a few smaller burns and they faded, the skin regenerated. Then on some others such kind of wound leaves a lasting mark. It depends of the personal abilities, I think."

Legolas nodded and turned around. His chest was also scarred, much less, just in few places – nevertheless Legolas wanted to know.

"This will heal in no time, really," Verién reassured him and so he dared a little sigh of relief, but still looked concerned.

"Oh just look at me," he said finally. "I'm abhorrent. The Lords said what they said only because all this is covered up with clothes. I… I have no intention of showing them anything of my body, that's for sure, but I just… know… that if they knew… they wouldn't look at me. I mean… maybe one day there will be someone who would be… dear to me that way. And he would see all this. I would loose him then. It is… like a brand. Like the mark you put on cattle. In Mirkwood they weren't doing this, true, but some of the slaves brought in by the traders… they had such brands upon themselves. Burnt into their shoulders or forearms."

The Elves kept silent tactfully, noting that this was one of the very few times when Legolas opened and gave something out of himself on his own free will. It was a rare situation, but had been occurring lately. These little glimpses into the pain Legolas still bore were as much good for him, as they were emotionally devastating. But his friends were patient.

"They didn't brand me, but they left all this… for a mark, for an easily read information: a slave, a whore. You can use it if you want. I feel awful, tainted, damaged, like I was never to be me again. I can easily accept scars left by the earlier punishments, I may have earned them, a slave must take them for granted, I… I had earned them… but that in the dungeons I didn't… earn… And if what you say is true…" he looked at them fearfully, still unable to get rid of the assumption they may cancel what they had said before and turn out on him for being so impudent to speak thus.

"It is true. We understand how these scars make you feel. But that is over now, Legolas. The nightmare is over. It is all behind you. And the scars will fade eventually." Elrohir whispered.

"Even with them," Elladan muttered on his right, lifting a hand and trailing the shape of the scar on Legolas' arm, "it is not the physical beauty that is most important. There will be someone to show you love and he will rather look inside than on the outside of you, noticing the beauty of your spirit."

"But I'm damaged goods in the outside and in the inside, I'm a wreck. I don't think like you do, I don't understand things in your terms, I will always have a mentality of a slave." The blonde uttered in a somehow choked voice.

"Not always. We're working on it." Verién smiled tentatively.

Legolas was silent for a moment.

"Why… my body hasn't attempted yet on erasing these scars? Because they are exactly the same as they were, even the small ones. Well visible and irregular."

The twins and Verién glanced towards their silent sister. Arwen sighed and hesitated with the answer; slowly she came closer and put her hand on her chest.

"Look at my hand for a while, Legolas. On the white backcloth you can see it glows."

Legolas kept looking for a few minutes.

"Yes, it does," he said with a slight surprise in his voice and turned his wide eyes on her.

"Every Elf glows. It is a sign that the immortal blood is flowing in his veins, that he has certain advantages that are derived from his race, from his heritage. It is a sign that the Elf is healthy, fit, developed in mind and body, intact and… well, Elvish. The problem is, you do not glow, Legolas."

"You do feel cold," Verién added.

"Ada said that he had had to use stronger medicaments to heal you, for your system had not really been reacting as it should, hadn't been doing work on its own with little outside help. You had been healing like a human would."

"And, as we have just observed, you have some other human features, though you are unmistakably Elven," Arwen ended the thought. "If you do not glow and feel the cold, it means that your fëa is still wounded and raw. You have made a wonderful physical recovery, you're on your way to become a skilled Imladris warrior, but your soul is still hurting. And it's not a thing one can change in a fortnight. Time must do its work."

"When you get used to that you're warm and safe, when you truly believe you have friends who will not let you down, when you regain self-respect and certainty that you are indeed a worthy person, this will all slowly go back to normal. You will start glowing and you'll stop feeling the cold with time, we suppose. When you are whole and happy again." Verién said affectionately, lifting a hand to Legolas' hair.

"It may take you years, decades even to get rid of that memories, pain and fear, it may be a long, difficult process. But even if it takes you millennia, we're with you. We'll be patiently explaining and assuring, we'll be repeating all over again, until you finally believe it. You must remember, you have a right to need attention and help. Allow yourself to need it." Elladan said quietly.

Legolas nodded very, very slowly, staring at his palms.

"I… never knew, never understood… now I do, at least I think I do. Thank you for explaining it to me."

"You can ask uncle Elrond about that," Verién suggested, coming to embrace her friend and finding him thankfully leaning to her. "He would surely explain better."

"Yes… Master Elrond" Legolas murmured, keeping his sad eyes down. "My Master."

Legolas was fond of repeating these words, when he was down or alone or falling asleep in darkness. It has became his magical formula, chasing away all the bad. His friends were indeed worried that he still refuses to call Elrond by his name or entitling him 'my Lord'. It was always 'my Master'. It was obvious that Legolas was in a strange kind of love with his protector, admiring him, worshipping him, being thankful beyond any rational limits. And even though it was worrying them and even scaring them, the twins knew how much strength Legolas gets from his musings and these silent words, and so they stopped nagging him about that, allowing him to worship their father silently.

The Elf surrendered to the caring embrace and seemed a bit calmer now, but he refused to participate in more talking or any plays in the pool, being silent and strangely withdrawn. He mused silently, tracing the edges of an irregular scar on his forearm, repeating his mantra again and again in a voiceless whisper.

/*/

Elrond rose from his desk with a tired sigh, abandoning all the paperwork and important reports delivered a few hours ago. He had been working alone for a much too long period of time, for his neck felt stiffen and his hand was already tired of writing. Pouring himself a cup of cold herbal tea, Elrond let his sight wander to the window direction and stare into the distance, both to let his eyes rest and his mind ease the flow of thoughts.

Reports of securing the fields and plants for winter, the outgoings for the end of the month and the list of newly-borns to be registered as Imladris citizens was too fervid to think about. Letters from petitioners or merchants didn't present themselves much better too. The pale, a bit greyish light surrounding his beloved valley seemed to be preparing to leave soon, as the Fall had arrived with all her wet splendour. The clouds above were heavy with the upcoming rain and the air was cold and refreshing with billiards of the tiniest water droplets hovering above the grass, treetops and stones.

What would put my mind at ease now…? Elrond wondered, propping himself against the wall. A pleasant topic to think about, one that would offer some distraction from the work…

And as he was watching the far away mountain slope, the Elf recalled how his sons, Verién and Legolas were returning home from the last escapade into the woods a fortnight ago. Even if the world surrounding them had already been weary and slowly falling to sleep in the anticipation of winter, this four was merry and giddy, stepping to the valley with a song and with laughter. The last beacon of summer joy, embodied into these youngsters, was seen glimmering for a short while longer and then settling for staying indoors rather than getting wet on the rain.

When they returned, Elrond was faced with yet another medical mystery concerning Legolas. The Elf was literally exhausted, cold and sleepy, sniffing often and ineffectively trying to hide his running nose. In the evening he developed a mild fever. Nobody around could believe it, but the truth was there: he has caught a cold in the woods. It alarmed Elrond seriously, and so the Lord fussed about Legolas, put him into the healing room again and took great pains to keep him warm and asleep for the most of the next day, feeding him with a liquid mixture of honey, lemon and ginger. Legolas has fought the illness in no time, but the fact that he could fall ill proved Elrond's thesis all too well. Grief of his soul was still too big to let the Elf function normally and prevented him from becoming a carefree, glowing child of Ilúvatar for a yet long time to come.

Legolas wanted Elrond to know what he had told his friends, he truly wanted him to know the whole story. Yet he couldn't force himself into retelling it. Verién did it for him when he was sound asleep in the small chamber attached to his Master's rooms. That night Elrond spent on keeping constant watch over the blond elfling. He was a healer, he could imagine all the pain and fear Legolas underwent, and it was enough to chase away any sleep. Instead he stared at the lithe body, this fragile, living organism on the bed, resting so peacefully. He observed each steady rise and fall of Legolas' chest, each involuntary, slack movement of his limbs, as he lasted there, possessed by some kind of a pleasant dream. That was it. Finally safe. Finally free. Finally taken care of. Elrond was too overrun with feelings of protectiveness and the detached but painful guilt to leave his little leaf's side.

Something has to be done about Mirkwood, Elrond thought suddenly and it was not a calm revelation, for it awoke the stinging worry in his heart again. This musings were ripping apart the beautiful image of the sleeping woodelf and replacing it with visions of Mirkwood clammy dungeons.

Elrond remembered all too well the bitter talk he had with Legolas about it.

/*/

"I long ago wanted to influence Lathronios to change many things in his kingdom, especially the famine, lack in medical store, administration or the issue of the courts of law. I told him that slavery is something no ruler should establish. Among with other Elven rulers, Galadriel and Celeborn of Lothorien, and with Círdan of Mithlond we called for councils, wrote him letters, wanted to force him by all the political means we had. Still, it was useless. Any try would outrage him and earn an offended note that meant clearly he has no wish to be interfered. He is a King, he cannot be easily manipulated or threatened. And we have no right to mess with his internal politics, for it may cause an armed conflict." Elrond was explaining mildly, slowly walking with Legolas along the heavy-laden bookshelves.

"Lathronios is a stubborn and fierce King who had been ruling with an iron hand for ages. He 'knows what is best for his country', he always reminds us. He says he doesn't have the luxury of freeing all the slaves. This is curious, for he established slavery himself: out of his political enemies and their families, the poorest, the prisoners and humans abiding in his country at the time. He needed cheap labour force and he achieved it that way, getting rid of his enemies in the process. But this sick ideology he clearly added to this… this worries us. But still, even though a bad ruler, he is a far better King than any murderer or a traitor."

"Murderer or traitor?" Legolas inquired silently.

"I'm referring here to the events from the past, Legolas. Were you taught… were you allowed to know the full version of the history of Mirkwood, little one?" Elrond rephrased the question, reaching for a tome on anti-hemorrhagic herbs.

"We were not speaking often about any of the previous Mirkwood rulers. It was not our place." Legolas answered.

A sad sigh from his Lord seemed to thin down the air between them.

"Exactly… now, after what I have seen, I begin thinking that the real problem of Mirkwood is a heart-sick, evil-natured and very obstinate ruler. May the Valar have mercy upon him for his doings no matter his reasons." Elrond shot Legolas a glance. "Do not think, though, that I had been helping his scheme through all those years willingly and without remorse. I couldn't refuse him help, because it is not him who will suffer, but his people. Constant loans and provisions from the neighbouring kingdoms is not really a way out, Mirkwood's economy is almost dead, the agriculture too neglected and undeveloped to produce enough food for all people. Practically only the small services and craftsmanship prospers around the main city. Now, if I refuse to supply Lathronios with food and medicines, people will starve. The slaves in the first place." Elrond couldn't help himself and put his warm, large hand on Legolas' nape. "Mirkwood is in huge trouble. The problem is still open, what to do to help your friends," he mused.

"I was told there is nothing what can be done without arousing a war," Legolas said silently, his mood dampened. "And I understand. I have never seen war, but it must be even worse than life in captivity, so it's better to leave all things as they are."

Elrond glanced at him quickly.

"I am deeply sorry and concerned about the fate which touched you and many other Elves in Mirkwood. I truly want to do something about it. I tried. We tried. But we do not want to cause additional suffering to innocents. That's a paradox, but we are trapped in restrictions of the law we have created ourselves," he said. "Lathronios is not a first King of Mirkwood after Oropher. He had a brother Thranduil, but that one was accused of unthinkable crime of murder and thus exiled from all Elven communities. A King that is a criminal? That's not moral. A King that is a kin-slayer? That's unthinkable. Arwen told you the history of the Silmarils, did she not? So you see. According to the law, Lathronios claimed the throne and is a rightful King. He is not a good King, far from that. But he cannot be hampered in whatever he is doing. Do you understand?"

Legolas nodded meekly, staring at the leather-bound tomes, palpating the closest cover with his elegant forefinger and tracing the shape of golden letters printed on it. Elrond exhaled a long breath and chose two more volumes.

"I don't want to give you any false hope, little leaf, but I think you have a right to know about everything. There is an issue concerning Thranduil that… may create… a possibility of change. But this is so unrealistic a hope that it may be as well treated as a conspiracy theory."

"What issue, Master?" Legolas asked, shyly rising his eyes at his Master. He had never heard the full story before as it was dangerous to speak about it in Mirkwood. He craved to know the truth, and more, since it was his Lord – his Master – who was sharing this with him. It only made Legolas worship his owner more.

"The circumstances of accusing Lathronios' brother were a bit… touted as for me. The trial never happened, for Thranduil ran away and got lost. The investigation in this case was led only by Mirkwood royals, and the official statement was made after the coronation of the new King. If one thinks of it, he may give… an assumption… that it was all arranged for Lathronios to claim the power."

Legolas' eyes were wide and disbelieving, but he was listening unmoving to each and every word.

"Maybe with the lost brother we could find out what really happened. Find out his version of the story. Give him a chance to defend himself, at least, and act accordingly by choosing a side. But… these are only musings that had come to us from Mirkwood, nobody has a proof. On top of all that, the lost brother may be simply dead by now. Or, even if he is alive and found, guilty."

Elrond shook his head a bit helplessly.

"Without him we can do or find out nothing, anyway. There had been a few expeditions aiming on finding Thranduil, but he has hid very skilfully or he is not in this world anymore. As an exile he has no right to even approach the realms of Elves, so he can possibly abide anywhere. Neither ours nor Mirkwood troops had managed to find him, and so we stopped trying."

Legolas nodded with some effort and not immediately.

"But you were trying, all the Lords. You were interested about it, you tried." He muttered finally. "It… it's a lot. Thank you, Master; for the explaining as well."

Elrond moved closer and rested his hands on the fair creature's arms. Legolas' back pressed delicately to the bookshelf behind him and the thin Elf rested his weight on the solid wood, keeping his eyes firmly trained on his shoes.

Silence occurred; it was a comfortable one, though. Master was so close. His scent, scent of safety and care, hung around Legolas like a curtain, shielding from all the hurt of the world that was out there – outside this clean, regular library filled with friendly tomes of soft paper and the presence of his Master. At a subtle encouragement Legolas raised his eyes at his Master's face and found only concern in the grey orbs. The Lord sighed again. He felt like he hadn't done his best in the whole complicated case, but he remembered Glorfindel's words well: 'You do what you can to help those you can'.

"Legolas, I wanted to tell you…" Elrond finally broke the silence and shifted uncertainly, unwilling to close the space between them too much, yet still afraid to drive the youth away by lordly reserve. "I wanted to tell you that you were very brave. That ordeal was too much to endure, and you… survived it. I… I am proud of you."

Legolas did not know what he should say. He looked in his Master's eyes and was so thankful, so happy he heard something like that. But he was only able to stammer through his clenched throat:

"Verién has told you, Master… right?"

"Yes, she has," Elrond said and released his hold, opening his arms instead. He did not embrace Legolas by himself, giving him time and possibility of refusing, but almost immediately Elrond felt the warm body pressing to his own and the fair head resting on his shoulder. Legolas stayed close to Elrond, wondering how much he missed his Lord, even if he was gone to the mountains only for so short a time. He missed that calming touch, that knowing hand stroking his hair in the well-known pattern, from the top of his head through the base of the neck to his back and again.

"You were told many things." Elrond said thoughtfully, pulling Legolas into closer embrace. "What they have done to you was so wrong."

Legolas recalled again the talk with the twins and Verién. There are no worse and better people. Lathronios is wicked. What they have done to you was wrong. He still could not believe it so simply. He chose to not think about it and bury his face in Elrond's robe instead.

"I may repeat it hundred times more, and I think you will not believe me still," Elrond whispered to the Elf's ear, stroking him. "But I will repeat. You are not a slave any more. No harm will come to you while you are in Imladris, Legolas." Suddenly Elrond detected a quick change of emotions in the fair creature he was holding.

"Master…" Legolas pulled away from Elrond to look him in the eye. "I will… always be your slave. Not because you forced me to be one, Master," he added quickly at Elrond's expression, "but because I want to always serve you, to thank you for your unbelievable kindness and that you have taken care of me, when I needed it. You are my saviour, Master… you have never ordered to punish me, although I may have deserved it."

"You deserve all possible care and as much help as you can get to the end of your days, not a punishment," Elrond said fervently. "You have never done anything that would anger someone."

"I hope so, Master," Legolas answered and subconsciously returned to his previous position, resting his head on Elrond's shoulder. The Elf Lord hugged him closer.

"This trip has done you some good," Elrond whispered silently.

Legolas smiled coyly. "It's because of my friends, Master… They showed me so much, explained so much, they… like me the way I am… and suddenly I find I dare to speak to you, Master, that I can find the courage to… hug you, Master." Legolas answered, feeling strangely secure in the warmth of Elrond's embrace.

"Oh, but actually it is me who is hugging you, Legolas," Elrond chuckled.

Legolas was silent for a moment.

"Hug me often…" he mouthed soundlessly into the heavily embroidered, burgundy velvet covering his Lord's chest.

But Elrond heard. Or rather felt in some way.

Behind the closed door, at the main entrance to the common library Glorfindel shooed away a pair of young Elven students demanding entrance and access to the precious library resources.

/*/

Rarely, but still quite regularly, Legolas allowed his friends to convince him to participate in the banquets or dinners held in the Hall of Fire. Usually he attended them anyway, but in the role of a servant – carrying trays of food or drink, changing the plates, refilling the crystal with finest wine or cleaning up later. He liked it that way; he felt at ease when he had a purpose to be in the hall. Nobody would question him, nobody would address him in matters different than his obligations. He could listen to the scraps of conversations if he wanted, or observe the pairs dancing on the terrace in the warm summer nights.

But this time the fair Elf was practically dragged out of the kitchens to his rooms, ordered to change and led to the dinner by his friends. They sat him between themselves, engaged into a talk, purposely heaped his plate full with delicious dishes from all around the table and even announced him as one of the singers for the later part of the evening. Legolas was uneasy, totally embarrassed and nervous beyond measure, nibbling on the hem of the grey and burgundy velvet tunic he was clad in, eating very little and ignoring the wine completely. He never liked to be in the centre of attention, he never liked to stand out in any crowd. And he felt totally out of place in the hall, full with Imladris royals, politicians or Elven merchants passing through the mountains. He simply refused to notice that the rightful citizens, the ones with whom he worked in the palace every day, were there too and were having well-deserved fun.

He sang a few lays in the end, ate what he was forced to and even indulged in some sweet wine from Verién's cup. His friends wanted him to step out of his shell, it was obvious and he couldn't blame them; the fact that it was a sheer torture for him was, somehow, beside the point.

But a little part of him was happy that he had attended the dinner. Just a normal, bigger evening meal, not meant as a feast, only a welcoming tradition for all the citizens and newcomers, and one evening off he could afford to spend with his friends. Legolas had a different idea of fun, true. But still: his Master's fond, warm smile and approving eyes when he saw him socializing were precious. His Master clapping his hands in regard when he had sung a song was such a pleasant sight. A tiny talk they shared at some point, and a brief pat of his Master's wide hand were more important than Legolas could possibly express. Good things happened, after all, and the fair Elf was tired, but content. He said goodnight to the twins and Verién when it was already after midnight and calmly made his way to his room, where the soft bed waited, and he was relishing absentmindedly the thoughts concerning mainly his Lord and protector.

"Legolas!" somebody spoke suddenly and the Elf whipped around.

It was Lindir.

"Legolas, wait," the Elf said and caught up with the blonde. "You're retiring so soon?"

Legolas dropped his head. "Yes, my Lord," he spoke, "I am just tired and I need to get up early tomorrow. There will be lots of cleaning up at dawn…"

"I always thought that you're not made for that kind of a job. You should use your talent and your voice, not spend time cleaning dishes." Lindir muttered good-heartedly and took Legolas' elbow. "Wouldn't you like a walk through the gallery?"

"My Lord… please… I really need to… please…"

"Please what?" Lindir laughed. " 'Please don't be angry', 'please withdraw your offer'…? Or maybe 'please do take me for a walk, I really need to be in your presence now'? Which of the three?" the Lord smiled beckoningly and his hand moved higher, onto Legolas' arm. The Elf stiffened though and his heels dug into the ground. He refused to answer and escaped with his eyes.

Lindir let go off his arm.

"All right, I didn't mean to upset you." He said with a sigh. "It was just a joke. I really would appreciate your company, even if only for a little while, but if you are not in the mood, maybe I may just… see you to your room?"

Legolas nodded nervously, still tense like a bowstring. When they started to walk, he moved his legs stiffly, automatically.

"You are skittish," Lindir started, "but I hope it's not fear, is it? You don't need to be afraid," he assured without waiting for an answer. "I think you have a very beautiful voice. This voice has possibilities, you could learn a lot and become the greatest minstrel of Elrond's court."

"T-thank you, my Lord," Legolas stammered, assuming it was a praise.

"Don't call me that… I am Lindir. You can use my name."

"Y-yes, my Lord."

Lindir glanced carefully at the small, stiff figure walking beside him with his eyes held wide open and tightly pursed lips. He seemed so terrified and so intimidated that Lindir's heart went out to him. He did not really know how to put him at ease, though.

"Did you enjoy the party?" he asked, obviously searching for a topic.

"A little," came the answer.

"A little?" Lindir encouraged, trying to catch Legolas' eyes.

The blonde nodded. "It was very nice, generally… some time with my friends."

"I would be glad if I were you, everybody were impressed by your lays."

"I… don't like singing… in public." Legolas said. Lindir raised his brow at that.

"Why? You sing so beautifully." They slowly walked up the stairs, and Lindir delicately touched Legolas' elbow again, as if guiding him. The thin arm was immediately pressed to the side.

"I just don't," Legolas confessed, "with people listening… and looking at me."

"You are very beautiful to look at." Lindir said simply. When Legolas gave him an incredulous look, he smiled warmly, and this turned out to be such a shock to the Elf that he stumbled and would fell down the stone stairs if not Lindir's strong arms which held him up safely.

"Careful, careful…" the Elf whispered and this time refused to let go.

They stood in front of each other for a long while, both scared to move; Legolas out of fear, Lindir out of sheer determination not to drive the other away. Silence stretched and time slowed down, if not stopped at all; the moment lasted – just lasted, uninterrupted by any movement or sound – and only the look Lindir was extending was becoming more and more obvious, tinted with longing.

Very slowly and in deafening silence he closed the distance between them. He felt the shy warmth of Legolas delicately advancing towards him through the folds of his clothes and though the Elf was like paralyzed, Lindir kept him pinned with his eyes, pulling him closer and closer, inch by inch by the hold on both his forearms.

After what seemed like eternity later their noses were close enough to touch and Lindir delicately ducked his head left to avoid the collision. His lips moved on their own accord and softly touched the corner of Legolas' mouth, delivering the tiniest pressure they could muster, unaggressively, undemandingly. Just an invitation. Legolas swayed on his feet; finally Lindir could not withhold any longer and fully kissed the beauty before him, taking advantage of the involuntary gasp and tasting sweetness on his tongue – sweetness that was Legolas.

But after a little while something made him break the kiss and ripped him off his bliss. He withdrew to behold the watery, shocked eyes and the shaking form of the Elf and felt cold dread overwhelm him.

"You are trembling," he stated the obvious. "Legolas, why…? What's wrong…? Please, calm down, it's alright… Legolas…"

Two huge teardrops fell down the pale cheeks and left two wet trails on the skin's surface. Lindir let go of the Elf immediately.

"Legolas, speak to me," he asked in panic, "I didn't want to make you cry… It's just… oh Valar, please tell me why are you crying? Alright, I will not touch you, look, I'm gonna hold my hands so that you can see them… speak to me," he pleaded.

"Don't… I'm so sorry, my Lord, so sorry, I just… I am scared of you," he articulated stiffly, letting more tears spill down, but recalling what Verién and Arwen had said. He had a right to refuse. He shook his head a little to clear his thoughts and continued, reckless as it was. "And I don't want you to… hurt me."

"Hurt you? Ai Legolas, it was just a kiss! I like you, I really do, I just wanted to show you that you are beautiful and liked… I didn't want to do any… oh…" Lindir gasped suddenly and his eyes went wide with terrified understanding. "You are… a former slave… you were hurt… that way."

Legolas suddenly felt something break inside him. He felt awful, tainted, as if he was something very dirty and disgusting, something to be avoided. He turned away from Lindir and desperately trying to hold the tears back, he climbed up the stairs. But the stubborn Elf followed.

"No, Legolas, wait… I didn't know! I didn't know, I am so sorry," he said, stopping Legolas in his tracks. "It must have looked as if I jumped you. I am so truly sorry. I'm sorry. Will you forgive me?"

Legolas lowered his head. He couldn't stammer a word, so he just nodded – but not immediately.

"I am so sorry for you. Poor thing…" Lindir whispered. "That's why you are so edgy… You know, I noticed you so much sooner, I just knew you need time to accommodate in Imladris and you need to adapt. I waited. I wanted to give you the time you needed. I just thought… you have come around already. But it's all right. You need peace and care, and your friends. It's not yet the time. I was too impatient. My fault. I'm sorry."

Legolas glanced at him, wiping the tears away with the back of his hand. A suspicious look rested on the musician and held his eyes for a while.

"And you… won't do anything?" Legolas asked finally. Lindir quickly shook his head.

"No, of course not. I wouldn't hurt you. I will just walk with you to your room and go back to mine." He smiled. "How does that sound?"

Legolas nodded his agreement and they started walking again. The two corridors, one bigger and one more narrow, leading to Elrond's chambers and Verién's loft, were crossed in silence, but this time a bit more comfortable one.

"I really think you are beautiful," Lindir muttered when they reached the correct door. "And it wasn't designed to scare you… it was meant as an invitation. I would want to know you better. But it's understandable if you're not ready." He smiled and tentatively touched Legolas' palm, asking for permission. When he received it, he squeezed the smaller hand gently in reassurance and let go. "Smile for me?"

Legolas tried to comply, but rather failed.

"Goodnight, Legolas."

"Goodnight… Lindir." The blonde said slowly.

Lindir nodded and turned to leave, but stopped for the last time. "You know," he said quirking an eyebrow, "if you decide that you feel better and more ready… I will be still waiting. For… some time. At least." It sounded awkward, but suddenly made Legolas smile a bit wider. And the fear shifted, to gently evaporate into the darkness of the corridor.

"I will remember." He said. And that was the truth.

Lindir smiled.

"Do so. Well, goodnight; rest well, little woodelf."