Chapter Forty Nine

Not a word was spoken between Legolas and Aragorn, as they walked out of the garden and made their way up to the third floor residential section of the house. The silence was a little awkward but had not yet reached the point of being uncomfortable. Both elf and man understood the reason behind it. And, the way they both chose to deal with it was simply to say nothing at all.

Aragorn saw no constructive purpose in telling Legolas that all would be well. The man had convinced himself that there was no other possibility. He would not---could not---accept any other outcome for his friend. However, as much as he knew Legolas needed to believe that, the elf was obviously not ready to hear any more than what had already been said. Whatever words of reassurance and encouragement Aragorn could offer would have to wait until Legolas was in a receptive mood more conducive to acceptance. When that would be, he knew not.

Again, he reminded himself that the elf needed time to come to terms with what was happening and then more time to sort through it. The other side of the man’s mind reminded him that time was all well and good, but what Legolas really needed was a good old-fashioned, straightforward talking to that would serve best to snap the elf out of his despair, so he could better fight Mordraug‘s incursions into his mind. *Give him the time,* his other self argued back. The man actually shook his head at the back-and- forth debate he was having with himself. In the end, Aragorn decided that whatever was done to alleviate the situation, might have to be done to a possibly uncooperative Legolas, as much as with his direct participation.

The ranger resisted the urge to openly watch Legolas, as they walked, not wanting to make him feel self-conscious. It was impossible, though, not to steal furtive side glances at his friend from time to time. On each occasion that he did, he saw Legolas’s head down, eyes watching the floor. A stab of pain struck the man at the sight. Legolas was an elf and a royal one at that. He should, and always did, carry himself as such, head up and shoulders back. Right now, he looked...deflated. Both sides of Aragon’s mind registered that fact, and both sides were saddened at the sight.

Legolas stared down at the marble tiles beneath his feet, looking neither at the man by his side nor ahead of him. The prince knew the way to his room by heart, so he let that subconscious knowledge guide him there without any conscious effort on his part.

He was well aware of Estel’s frequent glances in his direction. He knew that he should say something to the man. Why could he not speak to his friend, something that had always been such an easy thing to do? Estel was bending over backwards to help him, just as he always did. Legolas knew the answer, of course. Mordraug! He must safeguard those he loved from that maniacal Avari, even if that meant shutting them all out. He was beginning to regret that he had told Estel anything. He knew, though, that the man would not have stopped his badgering, gentle as it surely would have been, until everything had been revealed, which it, of course, had been.

It was perhaps the look of frustration and sadness that he thought he would see on the ranger’s face that kept Leoglas’s eyes downcast. It was also shame. Though Mordraug entering their lives and turning their world upside down was not his fault, he still could not escape the idea that if not for him, Mordraug and his evil would not have descended upon them the way he had. The idea that all of what happened could be traced back to a time when Legolas was but a tiny elfling and not at all to blame for any of it never took hold in his mind. He was aware only that it was him Mordraug had sought out, and that made him responsible, unintentional as it all may have been.

Self-recrimination was not part of Legolas’s general makeup. Yet, like Estel, he sometimes tended to take the burden of guilt upon himself.

Self-sacrifice, on the other hand, was deeply ingrained in him. He knew that that part of him stemmed from being a warrior prince of his realm and as such, a protector of his people. The station to which he had been born and the career that he had chosen for himself called for sacrifices involving more than the physical, though any time he left his father’s palace stronghold to track down and destroy whatever threatened his home, he was often placed in extreme danger. It was the unavoidable consequence of his warrior status. Both of his brothers and one of his brothers-in-law, warriors all, shared those dangers. It was a fact of life in Mirkwood, ever since evil had returned to Dol Guldûr and was relentlessly spreading northward.

Yet, despite all of the dangers his body faced, those that assaulted his emotions were far worse for him, surely for any elf. He was frustrated that the Shadow could not be eradicated, or even stopped in its advance. He felt grief far more often than any elf ever should, as a result of losing friends to the Shadow and its minions. There was also the loss of freedom to roam his homeland without fear.

He knew he could go on and on, but he chose to end this painful reverie. It would do him no favors to dwell on the unhappy things in the life he led in Mirkwood, especially since he would not willingly trade that life for any other. Besides, he knew, on the whole, the good things in his life outweighed the bad. He had always been a being, who enjoyed the bounties of Eru.

When the two friends reached Legolas’s room, the elf stopped but did not reach for the door handle.

“Is there something wrong?” Aragorn asked. He winced, realizing what he had just asked. He was sure that Legolas understood that he was inquiring about why the elf was just standing there and not about the revelations that had been made earlier.

Legolas‘s hesitation was due to the fact he hated to say to his friend what he was feeling. But, say it he must. “I wish to be alone, Estel. I appreciate you wanting to help, but right now, I need to be by myself.”

Aragorn, as usual, didn’t think this was a good time to leave the elf by himself to brood, but arguing would only make the stubborn elf shut down completely. He couldn’t be helped, if he couldn’t be reached. Also, Aragorn wanted to find his father, as quickly as he could. So, he simply nodded. “If you need anything, just call me.”

Legolas was a little surprised the man did not argue with him, considering how much he had been hovering, but the elf was grateful nonetheless and hid his initial reaction. “Thank you, mellon nin,” he replied sincerely. “I will.”

They both stood for a moment, as another awkward silence descended. Each seemed to be waiting for the other to leave first. Despite Legolas’s desire to be alone, and Aragorn’s acceptance of that fact, neither truly wanted to break the connection between them.

Legolas decided that, since he was the one who wanted solitude, he should be the one to make the first move. With a small sigh, the elf opened the door and entered his room. “I will see you later, Estel,“ he said softly, his eyes still averted. The door then closed, leaving Aragorn standing alone.

With a sigh of his own, Aragorn turned and headed down the hallway in search of his father. It was time to find out just exactly what could be done to free the young Mirkwood prince from his mental and emotional prison.

Legolas stood for a moment just inside the door. When he heard the ranger‘s footsteps fade away down the hall, he pushed the bolt firmly into its slot. No matter how well-meaning his friends were, he was determined to be alone. He didn’t think anyone would try to enter without his permission. Yet, he knew they were a determined bunch in the House of Elrond, so he didn’t want to take nay chances. He hoped no one would attempt to break down his door. The elf shook his head at the thought. How ridiculous could he get? Then again, he knew the stubborn determination of his friends.

Turning to face the interior of his room, Legolas tried to decide whether he wanted to lie down on his bed or go out onto the balcony. He always chose the outdoors, when given the choice.

Legolas walked out to the railing and took a deep breath. The same wind that had ruffled his loose hair in the garden did so now. The wood elf did not try to curb it this time. The wind was as natural as any growing thing, and he let the air current play with his hair however it chose.

The archer noted absently that his beautiful blue flowers were almost standing straight up. It would take only a little more sun to stand them up the way they were meant to be. The sun had now moved past the edge of the roof, casting the balcony in shadow, though it was still bright. Only the railing was still bathed in sunshine, which is where the elf now stood.

~*~*~

Elrond heard a knock on his study door. To mark the place where he left off in the book he was reading, he placed a stiffened piece of dark blue linen, embroidered with silver runes, between the pages. Closing the book, he looked up and called out, "Come in."

Aragorn walked in with Elladan, Elrohir and Glorfindel right behind him.

Elrond couldn't imagine what had brought all three of his sons and his long-time friend trooping into his study all at once. He smiled at the twins. "You have come back early. I did not expect you until evening meal."

"We completed our task more quickly than we anticipated," said Elladan. "We were just coming upstairs, when we ran into Estel, hurrying down the hall with Glorfindel in tow." Elladan grinned at the blond elf. Somehow the words ‘in tow' sounded out of place, when referring to the formidable warrior.

A closer look at Estel's face revealed the man's distress. Elrond suddenly remembered that his youngest son had gone down to the garden earlier to talk to Legolas. It didn't take a genius to figure out that something must have gone terribly wrong while they were together.

"Sit down, all of you." Sure that whatever was amiss had to do with the Mirkwood prince, Elrond said, “Now, Estel, suppose you tell me what happened with Legolas."

The man sat down in the chair in front of Elrond’s desk, and the story poured out. Estel left nothing out from the time he first saw Legolas standing by a tree near the entrance to the garden to their parting at the elf's bedroom door.

The longer he talked, the more distressed he became. When he finished, he said in desperation, "We have to help him. Ada. Mordraug is torturing him, and..."

"And, Legolas will not survive intact, if we do not help him," Elrond finished. He stared at a spot on the edge of his desk, but he did not really see it. His mind was working through all that Estel had just related.

The twins and Glorfindel were astounded. They had known that Legolas was still troubled but naturally assumed it was just the residual effects of his recent experiences. To learn that the problem went far beyond that was stunning. So far beyond what they believed, in fact, that it was almost too incredible to accept. But, they did accept what their brother had just told them, and it hurt each one of them.

Elladan did not think he had ever seen his father so unnerved. The news about Legolas and Mordraug had obviously taken him as totally unawares as the rest of them. That, in itself, was cause for worry. However, it was Legolas that occupied the forefront of the elder twin’s thoughts. "What can we do, Ada?"

At first, Elrond did not respond, so Elrohir took that opportunity to ask, “How can Mordraug cause Legolas to have such a physical reaction?” He lowered his head and added rather shamefully, “I thought, while Estel was talking, that Legolas was imagining it all, which is easy to understand.”

Estel looked as shamed as Elrohir. “To be honest, so did I---at first. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him that. He was so distraught. I think in the beginning he himself believed he might be hallucinating. But, I saw what happened to him, the pain and dizziness. He didn’t say, but I think he was sick at his stomach, as well. An hallucination didn’t cause all that.”

“The mind is very powerful, Estel. It can be the source of things we can barely imagine.“

Estel couldn’t help but glare at his father. “You think Legolas has imagined all this?”

“I did not say that, Estel. I merely said you cannot discount the fact the mind is not at fault simply because there is a physical reaction.”

The man asked point blank, “Do you believe that Mordraug has returned and is now tormenting Leoglas’s mind?”

Elrond observed the four faces that were all turned his way. With reluctance, he said, "At present, I cannot explain it, but I do believe it. And, you may rest assured we will find a way so that Mordraug will not be able to claim Legolas." With a determination that was reflected in the set of his jaw, the elf lord added, “Mordraug will not be allowed to continue his reign of terror, nor will he be allowed even to continue his existence---in any form.”

Elrond frowned. He did not doubt his own words. The problem was that he had no idea how much time they would have to solve the problem. A solution needed to be found as soon as possible, but rushing might, at best, prove useless. On the other hand, too much caution may be just as detrimental to the young archer. A middle ground would have to be achieved, or Legolas could well be condemned to descend into madness.

~*~*~

Looking out over the garden he had just left, Legolas watched several playful birds chase each other through the spring foliage that graced the trees. The trees. His heart ached to think that if Mordraug could not be banished, he would never again be able to climb a tree, or commune with one or... He quickly cut off those thoughts. They were too painful to contemplate.

*You do not need the trees, little prince.*

“Stop calling me that,” Legolas said heatedly, not surprised the dark elf was back again.

Mordraug’s answer was to laugh.

Anger rose in the elf. “What do you really want with me, Mordraug? Are you trying to make me pay for your inability to destroy my father?”

With an effort, the Avari ignored the insult. *You do not understand, do you, princeling?*

Legolas realized that he was talking out loud to the voice in his head. He decided he preferred it that way. Hearing the sound of his own words made them seem more forceful somehow. It mattered to him not one bit whether it bothered Mordraug or not, though it didn‘t appear to. “I guess I do not understand,” the younger elf now admitted. “Suppose you tell me.”

*I will be happy to explain it to you, little Greenleaf.*

Legolas cringed at the use of his oldest brother’s pet name for him. Having it spoken in the snide tone of the dark elf galled him, but he refused to acknowledge it out loud.

Mordraug, well aware of Legolas’s feelings and enjoying the irritation it caused the young wood elf, continued. “I killed you, because I wanted to hurt Thranduil before I killed HIM. That did not work out. Killing you right now is no longer in my plans.* The dark elf hesitated, hoping to add a sense of anxiousness and possible foreboding to what he was about to say.

Legolas was apprehensive, just as Mordraug had hoped. He waited unhappily for the Avari’s next words.

*My plan is quite simple really. I will take over your mind to the point that I can command you to do whatever I wish, whenever I wish it, no matter how much it goes against your own wishes. And, what I wish first is to send you back to Mirkwood.” Another pause, which elicited a puzzled look on Legolas‘s face. *..to kill Thranduil.*

Legolas‘s eyes were huge with shock. He held his breath until his emotions, no longer able to be held in check, exploded. “Nothing will ever make me do such a thing! I will NEVER kill my father!” he screamed.

*You think not? Let me show you just how much power I have over you already.*

Legolas stood perfectly still, his heart racing. He was angry with himself for losing control. His body tensed, preparing to endure yet another attack of searing pain, dizziness and nausea. He was not expecting what actually happened next.

*You love those blue flowers over there, do you not?* He waited a moment, but was not surprised, when he received no reply.

At the mention of the flowers, Legolas looked over at them. They waved gently in the wind, and their strong fragrance swirled around him.

*Go to that flower box,* the dark elf commanded.

Legolas shook his head. He wasn’t sure what Mordraug had in mind, but he knew it would be something that would greatly upset him.

*Go to the flower box!* Mordraug said again, more forcefully. *Go, you pitiful elfling. You do not have the necessary will power to defy me. Do as I say.*

The next thing Legolas knew he had walked over to the wooden box and was now standing in front of it. The flower petals seemed to wave to him in imitation of a butterfly’s wings. His mind went back to the dream he had had of the picnic with his parents so very long ago. Mordraug’s voice rudely brought him back to the present.

*Good, little prince. Now, pull them all up.*

The archer could not believe his ears. He just stood and stared into the box. “No,” he whispered.

*PULL THEM ALL UP!* Mordraug screamed so loudly that Legolas put this hands over his ears, as he had done down in the garden earlier. A sharp pain accompanied the dark elf’s angry voice. The pain lasted only a few second but served to re-enforce the command.

To Legolas’s horror he watched as his hands reached down and grabbed the stems of two of the plants and ripped them out of the soil.

*ALL of them. I do not like repeating myself. If you make me say it again, you will pay dearly for your disobedience.*

Pulling up the rest of the plants, Leoglas’s beloved flowers were now in ruins, and he stared down at his hands, as if they were not his at all but were instead some evil things that belonged to someone else. Surely, his hands could not have done such a thing.

*Now think. How long do you believe it will take to convince you to destroy that thieving elf that has stolen Greenwood and kept me from ruling it, when it rightfully belongs to me? Soon, ALL of your pathetic family will be eliminated---by you.*

The horror of Mordruag’s words struck the wood elf like a physical blow. Mordraug was planning on using him as the instrument of his family’s destruction! Legolas’s knees buckled, and he sat down heavily on the stone balcony. He leaned back against the railing and closed his eyes, moaning in emotional agony.

The plants, with their delicate blue flowers, fell from his hands into his lap. He ignored the loose dirt that lay scattered on and around him. Legolas put his head in his hands and wept.

The dark elf just laughed.

TBC