Title: Tortuous Paths (4/?) Author: Haz Author email: hazandcas@yahoo.com Rating: PG-13 for this part Genre/ Warning: slash, incest, hurt/comfort, angst, romance, (possibly NCS and torture later on, not all at the same time of course. Still anyone here ? Pairings: Legolas/Haldir (overall), Haldir/Orophin in this part. Summary: very difficult to provide a summary, as I plan to write a very long story and might change the course of events according to the wishes and suggestions of the readers. (So you decide !). At the beginning, the story is set in Lorien. Haldir returns home after some mysterious events kept him away for quite a long time. Disclaimer: Much as I hate to admit it, none of these gorgeous characters are mine. Not even sexy Haldir. They are creations of J.R.R. Tolkien and/or Peter Jackson. Don't sue, no money made ! Authors Note : this is my first LOTR fic AND slash fic. Also I am not a native speaker. If you don't run away from your computer at the horror, I hope you'll enjoy the story. Any comments and suggestions will be more than welcome (I don't really feel like asking my family their opinion on my work…). Originally written for the Haldir-Lives challenge. Beta-ed by Tessy: Thanks! Chapter 4 : Year 2968 of the Third Age/ Imladris Everything was dark. Or at least, he could not see anything. He was shivering. Strangely enough, he felt the cold. His heart was pounding madly. He could not remember when but somehow he had lost courage. Lost hope. Lost the will to live. Mandos was hovering over his soul like a bittersweet promise. But he could not let go… not yet. The eyes… the deep blue eyes watching him. Always. Even in his sleep. Friendly or not, he could not tell, but they played an important part in his meaningless life. Certainly not friendly. How could friendliness exist where he was? There was only pain. Humiliation. And fear. Permanent fear. Fear of what? He could not remember. Not of dying. He prayed he would die soon. Of what then? Hands yanking him up. He could not do anything. Chains bruising his wrists. Rebellion… Threats. And fear again… The eyes, always watching him. Submission. No hope…. No hope. The eyes again… Don't fight… A hand on his shoulder. A long wail escaped his lips. Then a voice, exhorting him to wake up. " Legolas… Child… please!". The blond Elf lying on the bed slowly opened his eyes, almost reluctantly, as if he was afraid of what he would find around him. Beads of perspiration were trickling down his forehead into his clear blue eyes, still quite unfocused. He blinked once, twice, still without moving. All memories of his previous nightmare had vanished, but he was still trembling with fear. In front of him, sitting on the edge of the bed he happened to find himself in, was a blond, handsome Elf he did not recognize, though his features were familiar to him. Standing behind him was a dark-haired Elf. A healer, he assumed in the midst of his confusion, for there was a strong scent of healing herbs clinging to him. "His fever has calmed down. Perhaps you can try and speak to him now" the healer said to the other Elf, his eyes never leaving the pale and exhausted frame resting on the bed, though acting as if he wasn't there. The blond Elf had a very worried look on his face. "Legolas… can you hear me?" He whispered. Legolas shifted on the bed in an attempt to reach a half-sitting position, wondering if he was really being addressed. He felt so tired. He was extremely uncomfortable, and the fact that he did not know where he was or who these persons were did nothing to ease his anxiety. He suddenly registered that a hand was resting on his forearm and recoiled, causing a surprised look on the blond Elf's face. "Take it slow, Thranduil" The dark-haired Elf said." He is no longer delirious." The one the called `Thranduil' looked down again. "Legolas… can you speak? Tell me how you feel, child?" Legolas's voice came out harsh; his throat hurt. He could not remember the last time he had actually spoken. The most unexpected words broke the lingering silence in the bedroom. "Who are you?" Thranduil gave Elrond a quizzical look; the Peredhil took one step forward and lay a hand on Thranduil's shoulder. He could not suppress concern from showing in his voice. "Legolas… don't you recognize him? The younger Elf shook his head. "Child, I am Elrond and this is Thranduil. The King of Mirkwood. Your father…" Legolas stared at the two expectant pairs of eyes facing him. Thranduil followed in a soft voice, not daring to touch his son again but trying to convey with his voice all the love he felt for him: "My little green leaf… I am here for you now. Nothing will harm you" Legolas gulped and closed his eyes, feeling an unfamiliar pressure build behind his lids. He helplessly fought the tears, which started running down his cheeks, while trying to concentrate hard on what these people had just said. Elrond? His father? That did not make sense : he had never seen these two Elves in his whole life! And they had called him Legolas… that did not sound familiar to him either! His whole body froze with horror as realization dawned : he could not remember anything past the last few minutes. He let out a strangled and panicked cry : " I don't know… I can't… where am I ?" Though looking extremely worried, Elrond did his best to speak in the most soothing voice he could manage. "Hush! Don't worry, little one. Don't try to think. You have been very sick" Elrond paused and gave Thranduil a sidelong glance, silently urging him to let him handle the situation. "The only thing you need now is rest. And food. Do you think you'd be able to eat something?" Legolas shook his head again; he felt nauseous. Elrond reached out for a jug on the bedside table and took a cup from a silver tray. He then filled it with a clear liquid. "Try to drink this at least. It will help. Will you?" Legolas nodded. He sensed he could trust the dark-haired Elf …. Elrond, was it? There was a kind of warmth emanating from him and Legolas desperately needed to cling to it in that moment. He was way too tired to think anyway, so he held out a hand to grab the cup, then noticed that his wrist was wrapped in a bandage. He could feel no pain however. His clear blue eyes shone with fear again. "Shhh… let me help" the blond Elf said. Legolas looked at Elrond, who smiled and nodded. Thranduil lifted the cup to Legolas's lips. The cool and sweet beverage soothed his aching throat and Legolas swallowed greedily. Only seconds after he had finished drinking, his vision blurred and he slumped forward. Thranduil caught him and gave Elrond a puzzled look. "It is drugged. He needs sleep. Come, we'll talk outside". After laying his son's body on the huge pillows and covering him with the sheets, Thranduil stood up and with a last glance backwards, he eventually followed Elrond. Thranduil was pacing up and down Elrond's chambers, apparently not daring to ask the Peredhil his opinion about what they had just witnessed. He could not understand why Legolas was incapable of recognizing him. His son's fever had abated, his bruised body was now recovering; even the wounds on his back and wrists – the deepest ones – had almost healed. So what was the problem with his son? Thranduil mentally cursed himself for not having been at his side in the beginning, when Legolas needed him the most. He had arrived only two weeks ago. Elrond had purposely concealed the gravity of Legolas' condition in the message he had sent to Mirkwood, as he did not wish to trouble the King any further while he was away and therefore unable to help. He had preferred waiting for Thranduil's arrival to tell him exactly what had happened and how the young prince fared. He had simply asked him to come quickly to Imladris because his son had returned and needed him, and Thranduil had delayed his journey a little, wanting to make sure that Mirkwood would be properly taken care of in his absence. He knew that Elrond's decision had been wise, yet he wouldn't have spent so much time on official matters had he known the truth. And now his son had woken up and seemed unable to remember who he was. Thranduil was overcome by a terrible feeling of powerlessness : what if Legolas's mind had been irreparably damaged? The King had already sworn he would track down and kill the traitor who had caused his little green leaf so much harm, wherever he may be hiding at the moment. But should Legolas never recover… he would make sure the foul bastard suffered a very very long agony… As if reading Thranduil's thoughts, Elrond ventured to speak. "Thranduil, we have to give him time to recover" "Elrond, don't try to fool me; you forget that even know I still I know you better than most. You are worried." "Indeed I am, but not for the same reasons you are" "Which then?" "I am more afraid of Legolas's amnesia being temporary than permanent" Thranduil had always disliked it when Elrond spoke in riddles, and strove hard to maintain a semblance of calmness. "I have already witnessed this… reaction before" Elrond's voice broke with emotion, and Thranduil guessed that Elrond was bringing up something which affected him personally. So he did not press him and after collecting himself, the half-Elf went on. "After Celebrian was… attacked… she… and Lindir… used to wake up at night… every night. The memories never left them a moment's peace, even though their bodies had recovered. They started fading… slowly. There was nothing we could do about it…" Thranduil interrupted him. "But Legolas has been abused during months! Were he ever to fade, the process would have begun already… yet there are no signs!" "This is what worries me the most." "I do not understand you, Elrond!" Elrond cleared his throat. "With Celebrian and Lindir was a third person… Lenwé, my personal messenger. When we brought him to Imladris, he had passed out, and as a matter of fact he remained unconscious for weeks. When he finally awoke, he could not remember anything, not even his own name… unlike my wife and Lindir, who could never forget..." Elrond coughed. "His wounds had healed already, and Lenwé resumed what we could call a normal life. He talked and laughed and seemed perfectly well, except of course that he yearned to remember his past and who he truly was. We decided to hide from him everything related to the events; we told him that his horse, frightened by a ray of lightning, had unseated him and trodden him. We also had to make sure he never crossed paths with Celebrian or Lindir..." Thranduil drank in Elrond's every word. " This lasted for almost three months. Then one day…" Elrond paused. "One day, he came to see me at the Healing House. No one blocked him. I was with Celebrian… she was having a fit. He saw her thrashing about on the bed . And… he… remembered." Thranduil gulped down nervously "and what happened next?" " He started fading as well. But…. the process was much faster… so fast, we could not have him sail to Valinor. He passed to Mandos within the week." Elrond stopped, shuffling his feet nervously, afraid to meet Thranduil's gaze. Thranduil needed to hear the words. "What are you trying to tell me, Elrond?" "What I am trying to tell you, mellon, is that the mind is a mystery… its power is endless but its paths are tortuous. In a reflex of self- preservation, I suspect Legolas's mind has blocked all the memories of the past few months outside, erasing his former life in the process. Much like Lenwé's has. But the day the shield breaks…" "But it may never break!" Thranduil almost shouted. "Indeed, it "may" but then again it may not! Are you sure you want to risk it?" "And what do YOU suggest I do Elrond?" Thranduil perfectly knew what the half-Elf was going to tell him. "Legolas could preventively sail to the Undying Lands… once he is strong enough of course." Elrond's voice was barely above a whisper, for he knew that the mere prospect was almost enough to break a father's heart. And Thranduil's boisterous reaction did not surprise him in the least. "There is no way I am losing my son! I'll take him with me back to Mirkwood and we'll make sure that nothing or no one reminds him of the ordeal he has gone through! Even if this means sticking to him like a shadow for the rest of my life, I don't care! I am glad the March Warden left while Legolas was still delirious!" Elrond raised an eyebrow. "Don't misunderstand me, Elrond! I will eternally be grateful for what he did but… you witnessed Legolas's reaction when he saw Haldir… I have to protect my son… my heir…" Thranduil was crushed by grief and Elrond knew that the words he spoke were that of a hopeless father. He knew his own reaction would be the same if he were faced with the perspective of losing Arwen or the twins. He tried to find the most appropriate answer. "Thranduil don't * ever* think I don't understand what it would be like to see Legolas go West... But you must think of HIM first! You may temporarily lose Legolas by allowing him go to Valinor, but you may lose him forever if he passes to Mandos! And Glorfindel could easily assure you that Legolas would be better off in verdant Valinor…" Thranduil remained silent for a while, poised on the sharp edge between denial and rationality, however sad the latter might be. The inner turmoil he experienced eventually overwhelmed him : hiding the tears which were threatening to fall, Thranduil suddenly strode towards the door and exited the room. Elrond heaved a deep sigh when Thranduil banged the door behind him. Yet he could not blame him for his reaction. Elrond knew all too well what Thranduil was - and would be- going through. The Lord of Imladris had lost loved ones before. Gil-galad… Celebrian… and to some extent Thranduil himself. But that was a long time ago, and he did not want to dwell on the subject right now. He was too concerned for Legolas to think about himself. Yet he could not deny it had been odd to meet with Thranduil again after so much time during which their only contact had been through formal correspondence. He knew Thranduil had not forgiven him for choosing Gil-galad over him. But all these personal considerations had to be put aside, for what mattered most was Legolas's state. Elrond had little hope. He would not pretend otherwise. Thranduil had been pained to hear his opinion, but he would not lie to him. Not when he knew what Legolas had endured. Elrond's thoughts drifted back to the day when Haldir and Legolas had been found by Glorfindel on the outskirts of Imladris. The blond Captain of Gondolin had come back with two figures mounted on a lean- flanked horse, worn-out and filthy rags barely clinging to their battered forms. Haldir, wild eyed and almost driven mad with exhaustion, was holding an uncounscious Legolas close to his chest,refusing at first to let go of his precious burden, not believing that they were finally safe. Elrond had had to use all his patience and diplomacy to convince Haldir to let him take care of Legolas, immediately registering that the young prince needed immediate attention. Shallow breathing, ugly wounds on his back and wrists and burn marks on his thighs… and the fever. So unusual for an Elf. He would only learn why later. He had taken Legolas to the Healing house after quickly checking Haldir for wounds; he had none, except for some scratches here and there which had already begun to heal. Elrond had instructed Melwasul, another healer, to make sure Haldir would take some rest, but as he had been tending to Legolas, Melwasul had stumbled into the room, telling him that Haldir refused to rest or eat before he saw Legolas. Elrond had agreed to let him come in, and he had watched Haldir hold Legolas's hand and whisper soothing words to him, fear for his beloved clearly shining in his eyes, until he had eventually collapsed on the bed from exhaustion and malnutrition. The morning after, Elrond had brought a tray with food and herbal tea to Haldir. Although he had felt reluctant to question him, there had been no other choice. Gathering as much information as he could was the only way of finding the appropriate cure for Legolas. Haldir was still in a state of shock, refusing to eat anything. But after he had drank some tea – which Elrond had brewed with calming herbs- he had relaxed a little and after a long silence, begun to retell the whole story. Elrond had been warned of their abduction of course, for both Thranduil and Celeborn had profusely written to all their acquaintances in case they knew something, but he could never have imagined what had actually happened to them. Even now he had goose bumps when thinking of what Haldir had told him… Neglecting his own wellbeing, Haldir had spent as much time as possible at Legolas's bedside. The Prince was comatose and the fever was still raging through his bruised body. Then, after three weeks, Legolas had finally opened his eyes. The last thing they expected had happened then : upon seeing Haldir, he had had a fit of hysterics, trembling, crying and shrieking until he had eventually fainted. Haldir had left the room, deeply shocked and on the brink of tears. Unfortunately, every time Legolas had woken up afterwards and Haldir happened to be close, the same situation had repeated itself over and over again. Dejected and hurt, Haldir had finally decided to leave Imladris, hoping to find some comfort in his homeland. Elrond had given his consent, assuring the Galadhrim that he would let him know of any improvement in Legolas's condition. And now Thranduil was refusing to let Haldir close to his son again, given the circumstances. A sudden thought came to Elrond's mind. "Haldir, my child... If Thranduil proves stubborn, Legolas will need you, sooner or later. Even if only to say goodbye to you. The strength of your love for him might be the key… Perhaps it wasn't wise to let you go" With these last lingering thoughts, Elrond headed towards the bedroom to check on Legolas again.