Title: ‘Bared Identities’ SEQUEL to the PWP, ‘Mistaken Identity’. *Strongly* advise you read beforehand. Author: Bone Fauna LJ: bone_fauna Hompage: Pairings: Thranduil/Legolas Summary: Legolas is devastated and confused after his father mistakenly and unknowingly ravaged him in ‘Mistaken Identity’. He can never let Thranduil know what happened, but the king is far more observant than his son thinks... Rating: NC-17 (varies from chapter to chapter) Warnings: Angst, & incest – duh! ;) Oh, and very, very, very mild swearing (practically non-existent except for once or twice). Disclaimer: Don’t own them, can’t afford them, not mine – all Tolkien. Except the plot and angst and OCs and slashy parts – that’s me! : P Author’s notes: Written especially for all those of you who gave me fb for ‘MI’ – much appreciated, and encouraged me to write this. Thanx for being so patient. Exams were okay. Yay, we have story with plot, - & chapters!!! Reminder - For the purposes of this story, Legolas is 46 – which would roughly be 17 in human years. Majority is reached at 50. ‘Malthenfin’ basically means golden haired. ‘Goldgwen’ = ‘wise maiden’. Taken the liberty of also inventing and naming Legolas’ two elder brothers. ‘Bórsael’ = faithful and wise one. ‘Maergorv’ = good, vigour. And I’ve made up my own rules about fading and binding. Also, I consider ‘Ada’ to mean ‘Father’, not dad or daddy. ‘ / ’ denotes thoughts. Archives: If you want it, take it. Just tell me the address so I can admire my work on a new site! Feedback: Yes please! That’s why there’s an email address & LJ! Pllleeeeeeaaaaasssssse? And if for some reason you’re inspired to do artwork, by all means go ahead. Just let me know where I can drool over it! Conceptional Beta: Aliaself. All hail her, for she made this story possible… or readable, at the least! *g* By the same author: ‘Majority’, starring Glorfindel/Elladan; its sequel, ‘Another Heaviness of Soul’, starring Glorfindel/Elrohir/Elladan. And, of course, ‘Mistaken Identity’ starring Thranduil/Legolas. ‘Bared Identities’ ~Part 1. Prologue.~ Legolas anxiously bit his bottom lip as he approached his father’s study. He had been sitting alone in his room, worrying himself sick over the events of last night when the summons had come. Apparently his father wanted to see him. Legolas was very nervous. Normally his father would not have sent a messenger if he wanted to talk to his sons. Their family was very close knit, and had never worried much about formalities. But now that he had been sent for, and with the event of last night still clear in his mind, Legolas was worried. Had Thranduil found out…? Surely not. It had only happened last night, and he was certain no one could know. Was it possible his father had worked things out for himself? And if so, what would he say? Legolas almost walked into the door of his father’s office, having been agonising so much that he hadn’t really been paying attention to where he was going. He realised he was trembling slightly, and took a moment to try and compose himself, before lightly rapping on the door. “You wanted to see me, Ada?” he called gently through the door. There was a moment of silence, and then Thranduil’s stern voice from inside replied, “Yes. Legolas. Come in.” Legolas swallowed back his fear, and opened the door. Thranduil sat behind his desk, looking terribly menacing and unfriendly. Not at all how he normally appeared to his sons. Legolas had to do everything in his power not to break into tears and runaway from the room right then. /Oh God, he has to know!/ Legolas thought in despair. Legolas shut the door gingerly behind him, and then took a small step forward, keeping his eyes lowered to the ground. “Legolas?” “Yes, Ada?” “Will you look at me?” Legolas considered refusing, but then decided that if his father was angry, it was best not to inflame him more so. He looked up and tentatively met Thranduil’s eyes. They didn’t appear to be angry, as he had feared, but there was definitely a look about them that he did not like. Something, cold, withdrawn and calculating. “Will you come closer, Legolas? You’re standing on the other side of the room,” Thranduil admonished. Legolas’ eyes widened slightly and he blushed faintly in embarrassment. He walked up until he was standing directly in front of his father’s desk. “No,” Thranduil said exasperatedly. “Come *here*,” and he held out his hand, indicating for Legolas to walk around and stand by his side. Legolas felt his stomach contract in panic and fear, though he did not know why. He cautiously approached his father, and suddenly yelped as Thranduil pulled him into his lap. “Ada, wha-?!” “Shh,” Thranduil cut him off, placing a finger against his lips. “Now then. Let’s see what we have here…” And with little more said, Thranduil pulled his son’s head forward and kissed him fully on the mouth. Legolas was in shock. Instinctively he tried to pull away, but his father had a firm grip on his head and back, and wouldn’t let him go. After struggling for a moment, Legolas gave in, completely confused as to what was going on. Thranduil’s tongue nudged against his lips, and he opened his mouth obediently without thinking. His father’s hot wet tongue slipped inside his mouth and consumed him. Legolas moaned, and relaxed into the embrace as his father’s tongue began to explore his mouth leisurely and teasingly. One of Thranduil’s hands then moved down and began to stroke Legolas through the fabric of his pants. Legolas cried out into the kiss, his father swallowing his cry as he slowly became aroused. Legolas’ mind was spinning. He did not know how his father had obviously found out about last night, or why he was doing this now. Legolas was just so relieved, however, that his father obviously wasn’t angry with him, that he allowed all this to happen. Thranduil pulled back, and Legolas panted for breath, somewhat disappointed that the kiss had ended, but Thranduil continued to stroke him through his leggings. Legolas’ eyes soon became lidded with lust and need. “Do you like this, little one?” Thranduil asked darkly, and licked up the underside of Legolas throat. Legolas whimpered, not sure how to answer. His body liked what his father did, but his mind was still confused and in shock. In the end, he gave the answer he thought would best please his father. “Yes, Ada. Please, more…” Thranduil smiled almost cruelly, and began to caress Legolas with lighter, more teasing strokes, until Legolas was gasping and pleading for him to finish it. Thranduil only laughed and said, “You are just a little whore, aren’t you?” Legolas’ head snapped up and looked at Thranduil with hurt and confusion clearly expressed on his face, but Thranduil simply possessed his mouth again before he could ask any questions. Again Legolas tried to struggle, but to no avail. After a few moments, Thranduil finished the kiss, and then brutally shoved his son off his lap and onto the floor. Legolas grunted as he landed awkwardly on the ground, and then looked up at his father who held nothing but clear contempt on his face. “You little slut. I knew that’s all you were. I didn’t want to believe it, but after last night, and just now….” Thranduil shook his head, and sneered down at his son. “You make me sick, Legolas. You are no son of mine. If anyone ever finds out about this or last night, I will probably have to disown you to save the reputation of this family. Just a filthy whore!” Legolas couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and was only vaguely aware that tears were pouring down his cheeks. “No!” he whimpered quietly, but Thranduil ignored him. The king stood up from his chair, and walked out of his office, shutting the door curtly behind him without a second glance back at his son. Legolas doubled over and began to sob…. …Legolas woke up with jolt, his own crying waking him up from his dream. He was disorientated at first upon finding himself lying on the cold floor, but quickly remembered that that’s where he had fallen asleep upon coming back from his father’s rooms last night. /Just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream/ he chanted to himself, shaking slightly from the brutality of his nightmare. He stiffly moved to push himself up from the floor, and a hiss escaped his lips as he suddenly became aware that he was still half erect from his dream. That fact disturbed him the most. An old shirt lay discarded on the floor nearby, and Legolas pulled it on, his naked chest making him feel very vulnerable. Still crying, and feeling ill, weak, confused, and generally miserable, Legolas crawled his way into his bed, and huddled up under the sheets, trying to find a measure of comfort and warmth from his tormented mind. He ached all over, not from just sleeping on the floor, but from the abuse he had been forced to bear last night in his father’s bed. Legolas began sobbing harder as memories of last night resurfaced stronger than ever. It was all his fault. He was such a fool! He never should have gone to his father’s room for comfort; never should have fallen asleep waiting for his Ada. It wasn’t Thranduil’s fault that he had thought Legolas was Malthenfin. Legolas moaned as he recalled the things his father had whispered hotly into his ear, believing him to be one of his few, random lovers. *Let me possess you, Malthenfin, like you know you want to be possessed*. That’s when Legolas had realised what he had gotten himself into; that because of his childish whims, he was now involved in something way over his head. *I want to see how long it takes me to drive you insane with need*. Well, Legolas must have been a disappointing conquer, as it hadn’t taken long for his father to have him moaning in pleasure. Legolas had never felt more disgusted with himself for having given into his father so willingly. Surely if he had wanted to badly enough, he could have made his father realise what he was doing. /But I was weak/ Legolas thought pitifully. *Does your body ache to feel me inside you? Pushing in and out of that tight passage of yours? Ravaging your body as you are tied to my bed? Finding my pleasure in you, with you absolutely helpless to do anything about it?* Legolas moaned again, but this time there was more heat than despair behind the sound, and he hated himself all the more for it. Even the memories of his father’s words could undo him. Legolas whimpered as he felt his erection grow harder in new-found interest. *Do you feel me moving inside of you, ascar? Feel me push in – and out... in – and out... Do you feel my hand on your throbbing length? Feel me stroking your aching flesh? How do you want me to take you? In one hard thrust? Or inching in, bit, by bit, by bit...?* “No,” Legolas whimpered aloud, “I didn’t want it. I didn’t!” But even he was doubting himself. If he didn’t want his father to take him, why was he now struggling with burning arousal? “I’m sorry, Ada,” he whispered into the mattress, shivering. “You did not know what you were doing. It was all my fault. I’m sorry.” Legolas continued crying, reminding himself that he could not let his father find out about last night. Thranduil did not know what he had done, therefore he shouldn’t have to bear the guilt and blame of it by knowing. Legolas would keep this secret himself. And he could also not risk letting his father find out because of what Thranduil’s reaction might be. Legolas’ nightmare had now frightened him. What if Thranduil thought Legolas *was* a slut? It certainly would seem that way if the king ever learnt the truth. Legolas could not allow that to happen, because his father’s and brother’s love was all that mattered to him. His family was his life. Legolas whimpered and rolled over, trying to ignore his aching flesh. *I will have you seeing stars* Thranduil had said. *I shall treasure this gift you give me, and I will try not to abuse it*. Legolas’ mouth twisted in irony at this last statement. Thranduil had said more than he could have ever realised, but Legolas was grateful nonetheless. Although the king had had no idea it was Legolas’ virginity which he took, at least he had been a gentle and attentive lover. And he had indeed given Legolas pleasure. Legolas had seen stars. It was more than anyone could hope for when being raped. Legolas realised that he should be getting up soon in order to be ready for breakfast. However, the thought of having to face his father, especially after his nightmare, terrified him. He couldn’t do it, not yet anyway. He would wait for the love-bite to fade, and hopefully by then he would have enough courage to meet his Ada without vomiting or breaking down into tears. With that thought, Legolas touched the passion mark on his neck, and then the tip of his ear which his father had unmercifully sucked on. He whimpered slightly as it sent a small thrill of both pleasure and pain through him, and his member ached and throbbed unbearably, weeping its need. With bitter tears Legolas gave in to the fight, and lowered his hand to bring himself to completion, thinking of his father and last night as he did so… t.b.c. Beta’d by Aliaself – thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you! Elvish: [& remember, I’m no linguist ;) ] Ada = Father ascar = wild one Homepage: www.livejournal.com/users/bone_fauna/ ~Feedback makes me work faster :P ‘Bared Identities’, by Bone Fauna ~Part 2~ Thranduil woke up feeling much better than he had in a long time. He was warm and comfortable, but most importantly, his body sung with the sated feeling of having had a really good fuck. Thranduil moved his hand out to feel the space next to him. Empty. The king wasn’t worried, however. He had normally requested in the past that his lover’s leave before sunrise. He had said it was so he could keep some semblance of dignity, but in reality, it was more to preserve his modesty in front of his sons. Though all three of his children, even Legolas, were old enough to know he sought out the company of others from time to time, he still preferred to keep his nightly activities as private and discreet as possible so as to not embarrass his sons, or himself in front of his children. Nevertheless, Thranduil wouldn’t have minded at all if Malthenfin had decided to stay this time. The Mirkwood ruler was in a particularly cheerful mood this morning, and could have possibly gone another round with the slender, blond elf. Not to mention two of his sons were out patrolling the borders and killing a few spiders, so there was less chance of anyone finding out that last night had been quite eventful for their king. Thranduil chuckled to himself as he sat up and stretched, feeling revitalised and ready to tackle anything. Which was a good mood to be in, because with the absence of his eldest two, Bórsael and Maergorv, Thranduil would have to tackle any paper work and other diplomatic issues on his own. He knew that he only had to ask for Legolas’ assistance in order for his youngest to eagerly help, but he didn’t begrudge Legolas his youth just yet. /He still has a few more years yet before he reaches majority. Let him enjoy his youth while he can./ Thranduil smiled and then went to wash in his adjoining bathroom. He dressed in leggings and a loose top, not in the mood to put up with insipid formal robes on such a lovely day. It wasn’t long before he had braided a couple of strands of hair, leaving the rest free-flowing down his back, and then left his rooms to make his way towards breakfast. As he wound his way through the corridors towards his private dinning room, Thranduil suddenly smirked as he saw a familiar elf walk towards him. Malthenfin. The younger elf was quite a beauty to behold. Slender, blond, handsome, tall… Thranduil frowned slightly, noticing that Malthenfin was about the same height as himself. Last night he could have sworn his lover had been slightly shorter. Thranduil shrugged the thought away as he noticed Malthenfin look at him for the first time. He expected to see a twinkle of the eye, a smirk, a nod, a blush, - *something* to acknowledge last night, but it appeared that for all the world, Malthenfin was just going to walk past with nothing better than a pleasant smile of greeting plastered on his lips. Thranduil couldn’t allow it. Withholding a grin, which would reveal his intentions, Thranduil nodded politely to Malthenfin as they passed each other in the hall. Just as the slender blond walked passed, Thranduil whipped about and grabbed the younger elf about the waist. Malthenfin yelped slightly in surprise as his back was pushed up against the wall, and his front was immediately smothered, by a very mischievous looking king. “Hello, darling!” Thranduil greeted brightly. “Miss me?” And before the rather shocked Malthenfin could reply, Thranduil leaned in and consumed the elf’s mouth in a passionate, dizzying kiss. Malthenfin was a little slow in responding, but Thranduil didn’t wonder at this. After all, it wasn’t everyday the King of Mirkwood made such open displays outside his bedroom with his lovers! But then, to Thranduil’s surprise, Malthenfin managed to raise his hands enough to push against his lord’s chest, trying to push him off. Thranduil relented, curious as to what was upsetting his lover. “What’s wrong, lend-ind?” he asked, pulling back and looking at Malthenfin’s face closely for the first time in several months. Malthenfin’s eyes appeared troubled and confused, but Thranduil was more interested in the high-necked collared shirt his lover wore, which he only now noticed. He smirked, remembering the love-bite he had left on his lover’s neck last night. Malthenfin was obviously embarrassed to show it off. Thranduil rubbed the collar teasingly with a finger, and grinned up at his lover. “Don’t you want an encore? Right here, in the hallway?” he asked innocently, and then rubbed himself against the younger elf, his lips seeking out Malthenfin’s earlobe. Malthenfin’s eyes widened further, and again he raised his hands and pushed his king back a bit to regain some personal space. “P-please, Thranduil. Not here. Someone could walk past.” Thranduil frowned slightly, at last noticing the way Malthenfin’s eyes darted about, avoiding his gaze and almost seeking an exit. “Is something wrong?” Thranduil asked again, this time more seriously. His eyes widened slightly in concern as a thought occurred to him. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Now it was Malthenfin’s turn to frown slightly. “No…” he said slowly, appearing a little confused. “It’s just…” “What?” Thranduil asked, now rather worried. “Listen, Thranduil, - Sire. I’ve been seeing someone now for –” “You’re *seeing* someone?! Like… a ‘boyfriend’?” “Well, yes… no. Look. I didn’t want to offend you… and… its only a new relationship so I didn’t want to announce anything and – but that’s why I’ve not seen you in a while. I didn’t want you to think… And I really enjoyed our time together… but, well, things are confusing now because we had a fight, but I think I’m in love … and… there was nothing ever between you and I… and…” Malthenfin sighed, frustrated that he couldn’t adequately phrase his thoughts. “You’re *seeing* someone,” Thranduil said again, still having a hard time getting past this fact. Malthenfin smiled softly. “Yes. I’m sorry. I probably should have told you earlier.” “But why did –” Thranduil’s question was cut short as both elves heard approaching footsteps. Realising that he still had Malthenfin pressed up against the wall in a rather unbecoming position as king, Thranduil reluctantly stepped back. Malthenfin readjusted himself just before a guard walked past. The guard smiled pleasantly and bowed his head as he passed king and elf. The two blonds returned the nod. The guard rounded a corner, as the sound of his footsteps faded. “I need to go. I’m late,” Malthenfin said, his face a mixture of discomfort and regret. Thranduil nodded his head, realising he was also late for breakfast. He smiled good-naturedly to show he held no hard feelings towards the elf. “Good luck to the two of you, then. I hope he treats you well.” Malthenfin smirked as he took a few steps away. “Who ever said it was a ‘he’?” Thranduil’s jaw dropped open, which Malthenfin joyfully laughed at, and then walked off. Thranduil shook his head, an unbelieving grin spreading on his face as he continued on his way. He was still entertaining thoughts of what kind of elf-maiden would be interested in Malthefin (if, of course his ‘former’ lover was not pulling his leg), when he entered a room where he and his family, and sometimes invited guests or friends, would eat their meals in. He had only taken a few steps inside the room when he stopped, all thoughts of Malthenfin and any inconsistencies in his story fled from his mind. Aside from the servants, the room was empty. Where was Legolas? Thranduil stared at the table currently set for two, and yet currently unoccupied. The few servants in the room stopped about their business, and stared at their king. “Is something the matter, my Lord?” an elf-maiden, who he knew as Goldgwen, asked. “Legolas,” Thranduil said, uncertainly. “Has he given an excuse as to why he is not here?” The woman quickly looked at the two other servants in the room to see if they knew anything, and then looked back at Thranduil. “No, my Lord. Perhaps the young prince sleeps-in this morning?” Thranduil frowned and began to fuss at his lip with his fingers, a habit he did whenever thinking hard. It wasn’t like Legolas to sleep in unless there was a good reason for it. And as far as Thranduil knew, Legolas had retired at a decent hour last night. His son had also made it a habit to attend all meals while his brothers had been on patrol, in order to soak up as much time with his father as possible. So it seemed doubly strange that his youngest was now absent. Thranduil wondered if something wasn’t wrong. “My Lord?” Goldgwen asked gently after Thranduil had remained still and silent for a few minutes. Thranduil shook himself out of his reverie, and looked at the elf-maiden. “Perhaps you would like one of us to check on your son, my Lord?” “…Yes… thank you.” Thranduil said, still slightly puzzled. Goldgwen smiled, somewhat amused at her king’s behaviour. “Why don’t you sit down and eat your breakfast, Sire. Tologèl here, shall go inquire after Legolas.” Thranduil nodded and then smiled, walking over to his chair and sitting down. Goldgwen gave him a warm beam as she began to pile sweet- breads and fruit upon his plate. One of the serving men left the room and headed towards the royal sleeping wing. Any unease Thranduil had felt about his son quickly vanished as he was caught up in Goldgwen’s lively, if somewhat one-sided, conversation. The elf-maiden rambled on about her sister and brother-in-law, who had apparently just had their first child, while she busied herself with small, menial tasks about the room. Thranduil listened in amusement, though he was perfectly aware that the young woman was purposefully trying to keep him distracted from his thoughts. He would have to thank her later. Thranduil was half-way through his breakfast, and learning about the diaper argument which had nearly seen poor Goldgwen’s sister leave her husband for the fourth time that decade, when Tologèl returned. The smile, which Goldgwen had brought to her lord’s face, quickly disappeared when he realised that Legolas wasn’t coming. That was odd. Tologèl bowed politely before reporting. “I knocked on his door, my Lord, and at first received no answer. I tried again however, believing he might be asleep, or perhaps in the washroom. When I tried a third and final time, calling out my purpose, the young prince replied that he was not hungry.” Thranduil waited for the elf-man to finish, and only belatedly realised that Tologèl was. “Is that all?” he asked, baffled. “He is not coming simply because he is not ‘hungry’?” “I believe that was his reasoning, Sire.” “And he told you this through a closed door?” “Yes, my Lord.” “After several attempts?” “Yes, my Lord.” “What did he sound like?” “…my Lord?” “The tone of his voice. Did he sound angry, upset, happy, flustered…?” Tologèl obviously had to think about this, or at least about his king’s sanity, before he carefully replied, “I think he sounded… weary, Sire.” Thranduil nodded, and tried to smile after realising that he was worrying the man. “Thank you, Tologèl.” “My Lord,” Tologèl bowed again, and then set himself the task of clearing away Legolas’ placing. Thranduil frowned, digesting this latest information. Something didn’t seem right, and his son’s behaviour certainly seemed out of character. After trying for a few minutes to push his son to the back of his mind and focus on eating, Thranduil sighed and stood up. His curiosity was piqued now, and he was beginning to wonder if there wasn’t something upsetting his youngest. Goldgwen caught his gaze and gave him a look that Thranduil swore only a woman could conjure, but simply shrugged helplessly in reply. The elf- woman rolled her eyes, and started muttering something about father’s and their possessiveness over their children. A small smile tugged at the king’s lips as he left the dining room and headed back the way he came, this time towards his son’s quarters. When he finally reached the door to Legolas’ room, he walked up to it and knocked, then waited to be admitted. When he received no reply, Thranduil tried the handle, but found that the door had been locked. “Legolas?” he called, feeling somewhat concerned now. He knocked on the door again, this time loud enough to wake his son if the boy was asleep. “Legolas, it’s me, Ada. Will you open up, please? The servant Tologèl has already informed me that you’re in there.” He waited, but his son was obviously refusing to answer him. Which worried him more than anything else he had heard of his son’s strange behaviour this day. There was no denying now that something was obviously wrong. “Legolas. Will you *please* unlock this door *now* and tell me what’s wrong?” he called in a voice that was quickly rising with concern. “Legolas!” He shook the door handle irritably, but Legolas refused to acknowledge him and his efforts. In the end, Thranduil took the hint that Legolas was in no mood to talk to anyone. With one last punch at the door, Thranduil stormed off to his office to work on some files, his good mood from that morning having all but vanished in confusion and frustration. t.b.c. lend-ind = sweet-heart Tologèl = (OC)‘trusty star’ Goldgwen = (OC) ‘wise maiden’ Beta’d by Aliaself – thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you! Homepage: www.livejournal.com/users/bone_fauna/ Email: bone_fauna@yahoo.com.au ~I’m a feedback monster. Feed me! ‘Bared Identities’, by Bone Fauna ~Part 3~ When he returned to his office, Thranduil spent a good deal of time pacing up and down, trying to puzzle out his son’s behaviour. In the end, he decided his ceaseless worrying would achieve nothing. He sent a servant to find Goldgwen’s sister, and then waited for the elf’s return. Goldgwen’s sister arrived after a considerable length of time, which Thranduil had used productively to do more pacing. The woman looked hassled, which didn’t come as much surprise, as she was carrying her young infant on her hip. Thranduil could feel his mood brightening a little as he saw the new-babe, and asked to hold it. That had been his first mistake. The child began to scream, and despite the king’s attempt to quickly hand it back to it’s mother, the child now took delight in it’s own voice, and would not *shut up*. Thranduil tried all sorts of methods he had used on his own children, and when he eventually had a servant bring a pot of honey, he dipped his finger in it, and then allowed the child to suck upon the digit contentedly. Both mother and king sighed, relieved. While the baby was subdued, Thranduil asked the mother if she knew anything that Goldgwen might desire as a reward for her services. That was mistake number two. The mother spent the next hour profusely arguing that Thranduil was a good ruler and that his humble servants didn’t require anything of him. Clearly, she was rather intimidated by his status as king, and thought he was trying to trick her. Just when the King of Mirkwood had finally persuaded the mother that he was genuinely interested in giving Goldgwen a gift, the honey ran out, and the child began squawking again. Thranduil could feel a headache coming on. The mother also appeared to have had enough, as she relented and informed Thranduil that Goldgwen would love some new gowns. Thranduil bid the mother and now-sticky child a good day, and then sent a servant to organise for a tailor to create some gowns for Goldgwen. Thranduil decided it was the last time he would try and do anything nice for anyone ever again. The king then sat down and tried to work on his files. He sent another servant to check on Legolas, but the elf reported that the young prince either wasn’t in his room, or wasn’t in the mood to reply. Thranduil accepted this with a sigh. After another hour, he himself stood up, unable to concentrate on his work, and visited his son again, or more correctly, his son’s door. Legolas still refused to open it or his mouth. When he returned to his office, Thranduil summoned for some of Legolas’ ‘friends’, although they were more acquaintances than anything else. Legolas was only really close with his brothers and father. Thranduil questioned them, asking if any knew a reason as to why Legolas might be upset. Thranduil was answered with a collective group of rather blank looking elves, and the king had to bite his tongue to prevent himself from saying anything rude. His headache had grown worse, and was threatening to undo him. As if on cue, Goldgwen herself paid Thranduil a visit not long after. She carried a silver tray with hot tea and tid-bits of food. “I thought you could use this, my Lord,” she said, beaming at him knowingly. “You didn’t eat much this morning, and I find this particular brew fairly relaxing.” Thranduil stared at the tea as though the very Valar had sent it to him in answer to his prayers. “Thank you, Goldgwen,” he said gratefully. Then a suspicious thought occurred to him and he asked, “It isn’t drugged, is it?” Goldgwen laughed softly, and shook her head. “No. I wouldn’t drug you during the day. In the evening… well. That’s another matter.” Thranduil grinned, and then sipped the tea. As Goldgwen made to leave the room, he called after her, “What size clothes do you wear?” Goldgwen paused and turned around, saying, “I’ve already given my dimensions to the tailor. Thank you, Sire.” Thranduil uttered a rather nasty curse under his breath as she left. Trust Goldgwen’s sister to have just as big a mouth as Goldgwen herself, and ruin the surprise. /Never trust a woman with a secret!/ he thought to himself bitterly. Now he remembered why he had only sought out the company of men after his wife’s death. But he knew he was being unfaithful. After all, he would have trusted his *life* to his bride. Thranduil sighed. Now *that* brought up some bitter-sweet memories. His wife had died giving birth to Legolas. Thranduil and his wife had never been good lovers, but they had been the best of friends and companions. He was very distressed when his best friend, confidant, and ruler-in-arms had died, but she had left a wonderful gift at her parting. Thranduil sighed again, draining the tea, as he lost himself in memories of his wife, and the last child she gave which now was the cause of growing anxiety to the king. When Thranduil finished eating the food on the tray, he asked for another servant to check on his son again. When the servant returned, he said that Legolas had asked for some tea and a sleeping drought. Now Thranduil was very concerned, and decided that he would visit Legolas when he was finished with his paperwork. It was night by the time Thranduil was done. He moaned and rubbed his face in growing exhaustion. Although he had slept well last night, he had not slept long, and his constant antagonising had worn him down. He wanted to go to bed. But first he would try his son’s room one last time. He was determined to get in, even if it was to just reassure himself that Legolas was still alive. He opened a draw in his desk, and from a secret compartment, pulled out a master key to the royal sleeping quarters. It was a dirty trick, but he was tired, annoyed, and worried sick. ~*~*~*~*~ Thranduil stood back in front of his son’s door for the umpteenth time that day. It was growing late, and Thranduil hesitated to knock on the door, not wanting to wake his son if Legolas was genuinely asleep. In the end, he tapped on the door lightly, and called out his son’s name. He pressed his ear to the door. Where before he had occasionally been able to hear movement, this time there was silence. He was about to leave, deciding to let his son rest, when he thought he heard something. A whimper? Thranduil thinned his lips, and then pulled out the key from his pocket. He gently slid it into the lock, and opened the door to his son’s room. Legolas was asleep on his bed, fully clothed, which brought a slight frown to the king’s brow. Why hadn’t his son undressed? The boy slept on his stomach, his head turned away from the door, one arm resting on the pillow by his face, the other thrown down by his side. It looked as though his sleep was restless, and Thranduil distinctly heard another whimper from his son. He felt his heart constrict, wondering what nightmares plagued his son’s sleep. On the side table rested a tray with tea, and a half- empty bag of herbs, which helped induce sleep. Thranduil closed the door softly, and then moved over to his son’s bed. He sat on the side and stared down affectionately at his youngest. Where would he be without Legolas? His eldest child, Bórsael, had grown into a level-headed, wise elf that would one day be the finest ruler of Mirkwood imaginable. Maergorv, Thranduil’s second, was courageous, full of energy, and would make a good warrior. But Legolas? Legolas made Thranduil feel young again. They were both so alike, that Thranduil often considered them soul-mates; brothers and friends, more than father and son. Which is why it especially hurt now that Legolas refused to confide in him when something was clearly troubling the boy. “I wish you wouldn’t shut me out, meld-hên,” he murmured softly, stroking Legolas’ long, blond hair, which appeared rather knotted and neglected at the moment. As he petted his son, Thranduil noticed that the tip of his child’s ear was slightly red. Thranduil frowned and raised a hand to touch it, but as he stopped stroking his son, Legolas moaned slightly and shifted in his sleep. The hair about his neck slid back, revealing a rather dark and distinctive bruise upon his neck. Thranduil’s hand paused in mid-air, a frown slowly deepening on his face. With very light fingers, Thranduil touched the mark, leaning in slightly to get a better look. Despite the lack of strong light, there was no mistaking the bruise for what it was. A love-bite. A passion mark. Thranduil didn’t much like the looks of that. Who had been man-handling his son? His *under-aged*, 46 year old son, at that! In all his investigating today, no-one had mentioned a possible lover, or admitted to being such. So this ‘lover’ must be fairly new in Legolas’ life. If indeed, the said elf could be called a ‘lover’. Had Legolas been willing? Is that why he was now upset? And how far had they gone? Thranduil was feeling a strange mix of emotions rush through him, but he had no vent, not wanting to disturb Legolas from his sleep, which the boy looked as though he could use. Dark circles ran under his eyes, and he looked as unhealthy as an immortal being could. Thranduil clenched his hand into a fist to prevent it from shaking his son awake in order for him to question the boy. Why had this lover been kept a secret? Who could it possibly be? Were they male or female? Was it love, or something more carnal? Although Legolas was just approaching the age where his sexual awareness would be awakening, he had never yet expressed any desire in finding a mate, whether for short or long-term. Thranduil was worried now that Legolas had perhaps been abused against his will. Surely that’s why he had locked himself up? By why did he refuse his father’s presence? What did he fear? Thranduil sighed, distressed. He rested his head in his hands, and wondered what he could do; what he would say to his son when he woke up. “Ada?” Thranduil jumped and twisted about, looking at his son, but noticed that Legolas was still asleep. Legolas whimpered again and then rolled onto his back, now facing his father. “No… no…” Legolas moaned, and Thranduil tried to make soothing noises to hopefully ease his son’s sleep. “Shhh, Legolas. Go to sleep, meld-pen. Go to sleep. It’s okay, I’m here. Sleep now.” “What…. no… Ada, why..? Why are you doing this, Ada?” Thranduil’s eyebrows rose, and he felt genuinely confused. What was troubling his son? He stroked his son’s face, hoping that maybe he could find out the truth of his son’s problem by talking to him in his sleep. “What’s wrong, Legolas? What am I doing?” Legolas gasped, and his face twitched reflexively. “Ada, please stop. This is… not right.” “What isn’t?” Thranduil asked, confused, but also feeling a sense of dread build within him. “What’s wrong? What am I doing to upset you?” “Ada, please… It burns… it burns!” Legolas started sobbing, and twisted slightly in the bed. It was then, to Thranduil’s growing horror, that he noticed Legolas was erect. “Ada, please! It’s me… Legolas! …So confused... don’t understand… what you are doing… Ada… I don’t know… Ada! Ai! It burns!” Thranduil found himself trembling with a horrible urge to vomit rising in his throat, and Legolas was growing more and more distressed. “Legolas, please! You’re scaring me! What’s going on?” The feeling in his stomach became a horrible, sinking suspicion. But he didn’t dare dwell on it yet. “Legolas!” Legolas sobbed and moaned. “Didn’t mean… it to happen… Only wanted your company… lonely… waited… please, Ada, - I’m sorry…. My fault!” Thranduil suppressed a sob as all the pieces fell into place. He looked at the passion mark on his son’s neck again, and memories of last night flooded his mind. He had found the elf lying on his bed, uninvited and asleep. It had been dark. He had gagged and blindfolded the elf before he awoke, - before he had even seen his face or asked permission, never allowing the elf the chance to refuse and get away, tying him to the bed. /Oh Valar!/ He had sucked on the elf’s ear; given him a love-bite. The elf was gone by morning. Malthenfin had not recognised the escapade of last night. And Legolas had hidden in his room, and now he dreamt with a bruise upon his throat… Thranduil chocked and tears fell from his eyes as the awful realisation of what had happened hit him. “Elbereth, forgive me!” he whispered, utterly devastated. “Ada!” Legolas still writhed on the bed, his hips now arching pleadingly. “Please, no more! It burns, - I ache! Stop teasing... Ai!” Thranduil bit his fist to prevent himself from wailing in despair, only letting go when he realised he was drawing blood. He watched as Legolas whimpered and twisted next to him on the bed. After a few moments, the young elf collapsed and began sobbing bitterly. “I’m sorry! …Never should have come to your bed… Didn’t know… I didn’t know… It’s all my fault…” Thranduil’s heart finally broke, and he spooned his son up into his arms and his lap and held him close. He wept against his child’s shoulder, at what he had done, and to think that Legolas had tried to keep the burden and blame to himself. For how long they stayed like that, Thranduil wasn’t sure. But after a time, Legolas began whimpering again, and saying “Ada, please... burns… Make it stop… make it stop…” His mind still clouded in grief, guilt and despair, Thranduil’s hand moved without much thought down between their two bodies, and tenderly wrapped itself about his son’s clothed member. Legolas gasped and began to tremble violently. It didn’t take long for him to come, having been kept on edge for so long now. He clung desperately to his father in his sleep, the sleeping draught keeping him firmly under, and his father in turn hugged him close as he rode out his climax. Legolas then fell limp in Thranduil’s arms, still sobbing softly. Thranduil found that he was also still crying, clinging desperately to his beloved child which he had corrupted. More time passed, and Legolas eventually cried himself into a deeper sleep. Thranduil reluctantly loosened his hold, and gently lowered his son back into bed, pulling the quilts up over Legolas and tucking him in. The feelings of self-loathing, disgust, and horror were poisoning him, and he did not know how he was going to face tomorrow – or his poor, innocent son – ever again. For a moment Thranduil considered staying. He wanted to stay, to hold Legolas close and whisper reassuring words to both his son and himself. Yet he knew it would only complicate matters more if Legolas woke up and found himself in his father’s arms. He did not want to distress Legolas any more than necessary. Reluctantly, he decided he would leave his son to sleep alone, but would set someone to keep a watch by his door. Thranduil placed a shaky kiss on his son’s forehead, not believing himself actually worthy to do even that. He wiped his eyes and took in a deep, shuddering breath, before standing and reluctantly leaving the room. He passed a guard on the way, which he ordered to stand outside Legolas’ quarters. The guard was to tend to whatever needs his son might have in the morning, and to send word if he left his room at any stage. The guard was clearly curious and slightly worried at the dark, haunted look in his lord’s eyes, but made no comment. He saluted and went to carry out his new duty, and Thranduil started to walk back to his bedroom, barely conscious of anything other than the sickening desolation that consumed his soul. t.b.c. Ada = father meld hên = dear child meld pen = dear one Beta’d by Aliaself – thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you! Homepage: www.livejournal.com/users/bone_fauna/ for earlier updates Email: bone_fauna@yahoo.com.au ‘Bared Identities’, by Bone Fauna ~Part 4~ [warning: non-con & mild-violence, but its just a dream ;) ] Thranduil walked back to his room and locked the door behind him. He stared distantly at the bed in which he had performed the awful deed of raping his son’s innocence. With sudden fury, Thranduil stormed over and wrenched all the sheets and cloth off the bed and threw them to the ground. He had a strong urge to order them to be burned, but held back only because his wife had favoured this quilt, as she had helped to make it. Unable to bear being in this room any longer, Thranduil turned around, unlocked the door, and left for his study. When he reached his office, he was at a loss as to what to do with himself and began pacing. There was no work to be done in order to distract him from his thoughts. Although he knew he would eventually have to deal with this situation, at the moment he simply wanted to huddle in a corner somewhere and have someone tell him that it was all a bad dream. A joke. Surely he could not have raped his son? Not Legolas. /Oh Valar, I want to die!/ Thranduil choked back a sob, and fearing his legs might not be able to support him much longer, he sank down to the floor in a small space between one of his bookshelves and a couch. Pulling his legs close against his chest, Thranduil found that he could fight the tears no longer, and he began to sob quietly into his knees. How was he ever going to face his son again? How would they sort through this problem; how could he possibly make everything alright again? Should he bring the matter up, or still feign ignorance? Thranduil didn’t know what to do. Maybe it would be better to send Legolas away for a while, so that the boy might have a chance to work out his emotions without the presence of his father looming over him. Yet Thranduil loathed that option, for he did not want to let his son out of his care. He didn’t want to lose Legolas! For hours he sat there, questions spinning in his head, but no answers came. Eventually, both physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted, the King of Mirkwood succumbed to sleep. Yet his dreams were troubled… …He stood in the Great Hall of his home, in front of the throne, which was slightly raised from the floor by a few steps. He heard a noise and smiled to himself, realising that the person he had summoned for was at last coming. Through one of the side doors, two guards marched in, carrying a slender elf who was struggling desperately to get away. The guards halted before the stairs, and threw the young elf down on the ground. He was now sobbing bitterly and shaking in fear. Legolas. For some reason, the sight brought a delicious grin to Thranduil’s lips, and he nodded his thanks to the guards, dismissing them. Thranduil slowly descended the few steps until he stood over his son, eyeing him as though the boy were prey. “Legolas,” he said in the dream, and his mouth caressed the word with mocking tenderness. At this, Legolas began to sob harder. He was doubled over and holding himself, rocking back and forth in obvious distress. “My dear son,” Thranduil said slowly, teasingly, bending down in front of the youth. “Whatever ails you? Don’t be upset, my sweet, lovely son. Do not cry now. Ada is here.” “No!” Legolas moaned, flinching as Thranduil reached out a hand to caress his hair. “Shhh,” Thranduil soothed, although in truth he delighted at the effect he was having on the boy. He ran his fingers over his son’s smooth, sculpted cheek, and then lifted Legolas’ head by his chin. Legolas made eye contact fearfully, tears streaking his face. “Please, Ada. Not again. Please, please…” “Oh, such pretty words,” Thranduil crooned, tilting his head to the side and caressing the boy’s face with his predatory gaze. “Such pretty words, from such a pretty mouth…” Legolas whimpered and tried to pull his head back, but Thranduil’s grip on his chin was like iron. The king grinned, cat-like, and then bowed his head slightly to taste’s his sons lips. Legolas trembled but knew better than to resist, and Thranduil could feel the exact moment his son relented and sagged against him. The king smiled, pleased, and took his son’s submissiveness to deepen the kiss and taste the flavour of his child. “Good boy,” Thranduil whispered heatedly against Legolas’ lips, having pulled back. “Such a good, good boy. I think you deserve a reward.” Legolas sobbed and bowed his head, letting it rest against his father’s shoulder as Thranduil reached down and put his hand inside the prince’s pants. Thranduil stroked Legolas for a while, delighting in the small whimpers and unwilling moans he pulled from his son. When he was satisfied with Legolas’ erection, he put his mouth to the boy’s ear. “Turn around, Legolas. All fours this time. There’s a good boy.” Legolas became very pale, and shook his head in disbelief. Thranduil frowned. “Turn around, Legolas. You don’t want to make me angry, do you?” he warned. More tears ran down the youth’s face, and he bit his lip and slowly turned around, moving onto his hands and knees on the cold, marble floor. His shaking only increased as Thranduil began to cut his clothes off his body with a small, ceremonial dagger. The sight of Legolas, naked and trembling, was more than Thranduil could bear. Without even bothering to undress himself, he undid the front of his pants, and moved up behind his son. When he pressed his hard, hot length against his son’s backside, Legolas cried out in fear. His arms gave out beneath him and he crumpled to the floor. “Get up, Legolas,” Thranduil snapped, most displeased. “No! Please don’t do this, Ada. Not again. *Please*!” “Legolas, I’m warning you. If you don’t get up *now*, you wont be able to get up for a week!” Legolas sobbed and curled up. “No, please, don’t… I’ll do anything, Ada.” Thranduil held back a snarl, hearing his son’s last admission. He raised an eyebrow, although Legolas couldn’t see it. “*Anything*, Legolas?” Legolas quietened and stilled. Hesitantly he raised his head and looked at his father. His eyes showed his fear, but he obviously thought that nothing could be worse than what Thranduil initially had in store for him. Carefully, he nodded his head. “Good,” Thranduil said with a broad grin. He reached out and picked the boy up by his hair. Legolas cried out as he was ruthlessly lifted and turned about, tears of pain rather than fear now springing to his eyes. He was dropped down facing Thranduil, who was still grinning at him manically. Legolas looked up, unsure what he would be asked to do. “Take me, Legolas,” Thranduil said, grinning demonically. “Take me in that sweet little mouth of yours which has been taught to beg so prettily.” Legolas’ eyes darted down to the dark, pulsing member standing proudly from Thranduil’s leggings. He looked back up at his father in panic, shaking his head in shock. “No?” Thranduil drawled, the grin disappearing into a frown. “Right then.” And he slapped Legolas hard across the face, sending the youth sprawling onto the hard floor. Before Legolas could roll off his stomach, Thranduil lunged on top of him. With a knee he viciously forced the boy’s legs apart, and stretching Legolas wide, he entered his son in one sharp, violent thrust. Legolas screamed as he was torn and violated. Thranduil didn’t give him any time to recover. He pulled out harshly, and then forced his way back in with another violent thrust. He set up a fast and brutal rhythm, taking delight in the warm blood from Legolas’ torn opening, which he could feel pool about his length and helped to ease his way inside his son. He covered the boy’s mouth with his hand to muffle his screams, not even allowing his son the dignity of voicing his pain. Thranduil relished in the act, in his own viciousness and domination. This is what he was. A rapist. Nothing more. He could feel himself drawing close to completion; could feel Legolas moan and sob and writhe and scream. Could feel his son’s inner passage tremble and clench and tear about him; could feel the heat pooling and building within his member until it became almost unbearable. And then, with one last, ferocious push, Thranduil pumped his seed out into his son, and he screamed out his own release… …Thranduil woke screaming, but it was a scream of fear and horror. He only stopped when he felt his stomach contract and heave. He bent over, promptly throwing up everything inside onto the polished, wooden floor. ~*~*~*~*~ The king sat in the chair in his office, staring lifelessly out the window. He had been sitting there for the last few hours, watching the sky turn from black to grey, and eventually bloom with the colours of sunrise. Too afraid to go back to sleep; too afraid to do anything except clean up the mess he had left on the floor after… Thranduil shuddered, not wanting to think about that nightmare ever again. The time for breakfast came and went, but Thranduil made no move to get up. He was afraid that Legolas might make an appearance, and he did not trust himself to remain calm just at the moment. The Valar, however, seemed to have other ideas, as there came a knock on the study door. “My Lord? Are you in there?” Thranduil recognised the voice as belonging to Goldgwen, and cursed silently. He stood up and opened the door, peering out at the maid. Goldgwen smiled, obviously relieved to have finally found her king. “My Lord! I’ve been looking everywhere for you. When you didn’t turn up for breakfast…” she shrugged and grinned, but then noticed the look on Thranduil’s face, and her smile froze. “Is everything all right, Sire? You… you don’t look, ah… well refreshed.” Thranduil gave a grim smile. “I did not sleep well, no. I don’t think I’ll attend breakfast this morning, Goldgwen.” Goldgwen hesitated. “Um, you do remember you were meant to meet your seneschal today to discuss changes to the border patrol? And after that is your weekly meeting with the advisors.” Thranduil cursed viciously, not caring to lower his voice for the sake of the woman’s presence. Goldgwen gave him a mothering, ‘was that really necessary?’–look, and then asked, “Would you like me to cancel the meetings, Sire?” Thranduil shook his head. “No,” he sighed. “Let’s get this over and done with.” After a moment’s pause, he asked tentatively, “Is Legolas there?” Goldgwen gave a gentle smile and shook her head. “No, my Lord. However, I did leave a tray of food by his door if he became hungry. Did you know that there is a guard outside his room?” Thranduil smiled slightly, but said nothing, following Goldgwen to the dining room. The first appointment was not very productive. Thranduil picked at his food, hoping to make it look as though he had eaten *something* so he wouldn’t have Goldgwen nagging him about his health. He was distracted, and found himself fazing in and out of the commanding officer’s report. In the end, Thranduil commended the seneschal on his proposed changes, trusting in the elf’s judgement that they were indeed a good idea. He would have to send Bórsael or Maergorv off to investigate later, when they returned from their extended patrol. The second meeting wasn’t much better. Thranduil sat on his throne in a half-daze. It was even worse this time, sitting in the very room his nightmare had taken place. At one stage, memories of that dream had come back so vividly, that the king had had to excuse himself and stand outside for a moment, splashing water onto his face and neck. It was lucky he had eaten no breakfast, or else he may have thrown that up too. When he returned, his head advisor, Istidhren, gave him a meaningful look, and then announced that the meeting was over. Clearly there was more to be discussed, but out of politeness to their king, the council was being cut short. The other councillors left, mumbling softly to each other. Thranduil rested his head in his hands, moaning faintly. “Is everything alright, my Lord?” Istidhren asked, startling the king. Thranduil jumped and looked up at his long-time friend. “Aye and nay. I did not sleep well, and Legolas is troubled, which troubles me.” It was the best excuse he could give without actually lying. Istidhren nodded, though his frown deepened. “You do look as though you could use more sleep. Why don’t I take over some of the paperwork for a while? Bórsael and Maergorv will be returning soon, which will also help lighten your load, I think. You have been working hard, Thranduil. Why don’t you spend some quality time with your youngest? He has been seeking your attention all week with his brothers gone.” Thranduil smiled thinly, and managed to utter, “Yes, thank you. That sounds like a good idea, nin-meldir.” Istidhren smiled and then left, which the king was most grateful. He could hold the tears back no longer. ~*~*~*~*~ Thranduil was starring at the front of his son’s door *again*. He was beginning to get the impression that he knew the door better than he did his own child. Looking down at the untouched tray of food by the door, Thranduil sighed, realising the guard had been right. At lunch time, the guard had reported that Legolas had not left his room, and refused all offers of food and drink. Thranduil thanked the guard and dismissed him. He decided it was time to finally talk to his son, if only to get the boy to eat something more substantial than drugged tea. Lightly knocking on the door, he called out, and was answered with the usual stony silence. “Legolas? It’s me. I know you’re in there, and I know you aren’t asleep, and I know you are probably hungry. Will you please accept some food at least, if you’re not going to accept me?” Thranduil thought he could hear a quiet sob coming from inside, and he felt tears well in his own eyes in sympathy. “Legolas, please,” his voice cracked, but he didn’t care. “Please, *please* open this door and eat something?” Still no reply. “Just open the door. You don’t have to eat anything, just let me see you, please?” Nothing. “Will you just answer me?” he yelled, getting emotional and slapping the door with the palm of his hand. “Damn it, Legolas! *We need to talk*. Please open this door…” Inside he could hear Legolas catch his breath, and he suddenly realised what he had said. Had he given himself away? Thranduil squeezed his eyes shut and rested his forehead against the door. “Please,” he whispered desolately. “I know what happened, meld-pen… Gods, Legolas! I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry… I- I didn’t know. I would never have – ” his voice broke, and he took a moment to compose himself. Through the door, the king could hear Legolas gasp and sob, and then there was hurried movement, as though his son were some caged and frightened animal. “Legolas,” he started to say, wanting to try and placate his son before the boy grew too hysterical, but then he heard a noise which sounded suspiciously like a window being opened. “Legolas? Legolas!” Thranduil panicked and started bashing on the door and rattling the handle, cursing himself for not having brought the master key with him. Fearing the worst, Thranduil swore and ran back to his office, grabbed the key, and then came back to Legolas’ room. He unlocked the door and threw it open. The room was empty, and the main window was thrown wide open. Thranduil ran over to it and looked down. Next to the window grew a large tree - the perfect means by which anyone could escape the room if necessary. Legolas obviously had, as the king could spot the slender figure running off desperately through the woods. Cursing and swearing everything and anything, Thranduil ran back into the hallway and drew in a large breath. “GUARDS!” t.b.c. Ada = Father Istidhren = (OC) ‘knowledge wise’ nin-meldir = my friend meld pen = dear one Beta’d by Aliaself – thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you! Homepage: www.livejournal.com/users/bone_fauna/ Email: bone_fauna@yahoo.com.au ‘Bared Identities’, by Bone Fauna ~Part 5~ Thranduil was again in his study, pacing back and forth, worrying his lip with both fingers and teeth. /Damn it!/ He had definitely screwed up this time. Now Legolas had run off into the forest somewhere, possibly putting himself in danger, and it was all Thranduil’s fault. He shouldn’t have talked about their problem through a door, without giving his son any warning. He hadn’t been thinking, and now he risked never seeing his son again. What if Legolas had run off for good? Thranduil shook his head, refusing to think of that as a possibility. He had called the guards out to search for his youngest son – Legolas would be found. Although the young prince had been taught well to blend in with the woods, he was still a child, and bound to make mistakes. The sentries would catch him before he could get too far. /I hope./ He bristled at the thought that he could not also be outside looking for his youngest. But the head of the guard, as well as Istidhren, had both advised that, as king, Thranduil needed to stay in his palace in case anything else came up. This way, when Legolas was found, he would be brought safely back home where Thranduil would be. The king had spent a considerable amount of time arguing against this, but in the end he conceded, knowing they were right. So now, only one problem remained. What would Thranduil do with Legolas when he was returned? How should he act, and what should he say? Would it be best to involve a third party to act as mediator, or should he and his son talk alone? Would Legolas even want to talk to him? Thranduil cursed as he misjudged his step and jabbed his foot against the side of the desk. As he bent down to rub his toes, he heard a soft giggle, and looked up. Goldgwen smiled and shook her head at her king. “I didn’t know you had two left feet, my Lord. I remember you dancing quite well at our last festival.” Thranduil gave her a grim smile, but then noticed the tray in her hands. “That wouldn’t happen to be your famous, relaxing tea, would it?” he asked hopefully. Goldgwen grinned. “It would. I thought I might interest you in a cup if you have finished cavorting about your office.” “Ha ha,” Thranduil muttered sarcastically, but sat down in his chair to receive the tea. “So,” Goldgwen began conversationally as she poured. “What has upset our young prince enough to make him feel he needs a nice, long stroll in the spider-infested forest?” Thranduil paled slightly, and shrugged his shoulder. “I’m afraid it was something I said. I don’t think he took too kindly to my words. I may have frightened him.” “I think he actually already knows about the birds and the bees, Sire,” she said teasingly, trying to lighten the king’s mood. Thranduil gave the cheery woman an infuriating look. “That wasn’t what I was trying to talk to him about,” he said, but then blinked, realising that there was actually some truth in the elf-maiden’s joke. “Although it wasn’t far off,” he mumbled to himself. Goldgwen raised an eyebrow, but realised that she had no place to inquire further if Thranduil wasn’t willing to share. She packed up the tray and nodded. “Enjoy your tea, my Lord.” “Thank you, Goldgwen. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” “Find yourself a wife, no doubt,” she said, grinning, and then left the room. Thranduil waited in his office for news of his son, sipping his tea. When the drink was finished, and no word had yet come, he began pacing again, thinking of nothing better to do. He was now wondering if it had been such a good idea to send the guards in the first place. Maybe all Legolas needed was some time to think by himself. He wasn’t a prisoner, after all. /But I’m afraid to lose him/ Thranduil admitted to himself. He had sent the guards, worried that if he did not, he would never see his beloved son again. He *couldn’t* let this awful incident come between them. They had to sort out their differences, and if it took the rest of Thranduil’s long, immortal life to apologise to his son for what he had done, then so be it. Just as long as he had Legolas nearby. The afternoon dragged on for the king in useless worrying, and still no word of Legolas had reached him. After exhausting himself from pacing and fretting, Thranduil had almost been relieved when he had discovered some reports that could keep his mind occupied for the next few hours. As the sun sank towards the horizon, the blond ruler of Mirkwood lost himself in his paperwork. At sunset, there was a polite rap at the door. Thranduil absent-mindedly admitted them inside, his mind still whirring with facts and figures. “My Lord?” “Mmmm?” “I have been sent to inform you that your two sons have returned from the boarder patrol.” Thranduil looked up, at last coming back to reality. “Bórsael and Maergorv are back?” “Aye, my Lord.” Thranduil suddenly felt rather emotional. After the events of the last couple of days, it felt good to know that he now had his two eldest to rely upon for support. “Excellent. Please tell them to come here so that I might welcome them back.” The servant bowed and left. Thranduil quickly finished off a few last- minute notes on the reports, and then filed them away. He stood in front of his desk, waiting for his sons to come, so that he may greet them warmly with a hug. Soon the sound of footsteps could be heard, but Thranduil frowned. It sounded as though his sons were struggling to carry something between them. Thranduil paled slightly, hoping that the mischievous mind of Maergorv hadn’t managed to persuade his elder brother to bring back a dead spider carcass as a trophy. He wouldn’t put it past his sons to pull such a prank, just to see their father’s reaction. But as the footsteps drew closer, he could distinctly hear sobbing and pleading, and Thranduil grew even whiter, finally realising what it could be. His suspicions were confirmed when a moment later, two blond elves, one tall and slim, the other a bit shorter and broader, proudly marched through the study door. Between them they dragged a rather hysterical young prince of Mirkwood. Thranduil didn’t know whether to cry from joy that his child was safe, or to despair that Legolas was so scared to be brought into his father’s presence. The two elder brothers dropped the boy on the ground before their father’s feet. Maergorv, the shorter of the two and younger by a couple of centuries, grinned and said, “I believe you were looking for this? I must say, Ada, whatever did you do to upset him so much? He was not in the least bit easy to catch, and he was even less pleased when we told him that we were going to bring him here. What is it that he’s done which makes him fear your punishment so?” Thranduil, however, wasn’t really listening. He was too focused on Legolas who sat huddled before him, crying and shaking. For one brief, horrible moment, Thranduil was reminded of his nightmare last night where the guards had brought in his son and dropped him onto the ground in a similar state. “Legolas,” he whispered, distraught at his son’s crying. Legolas heard the small plea, and looked up. For a brief moment they made eye contact, the first since that horrible night. Thranduil read the fear, hurt, confusion and self-loathing in those young eyes, and he wondered that he didn’t die from such a haunted look. It lasted but a second, and then Legolas could bear to look at his father any longer. With a small whimper breaking into a sob, the prince turned about, scrambling to his feet, and ran off. Maergorv flinched and made to go after him, but Thranduil raised his hand. “Don’t. Let him go. I don’t think he’ll leave again. He’s headed towards his room.” Maergorv nodded, clearly confused. Thranduil sighed in pain, only belatedly realising that his two eldest sons were standing in the room, starring at him. He looked up and gave them a weak smile. “Not the sort of welcome I would have chosen,” he muttered, and his sons’ gave him the curtesy of smiling slightly at his forced humour. “Where did you find him?” Thranduil asked, leaning back against the desk for support, hoping Bórsael and Maergorv couldn’t tell just how heartbroken he really was at Legolas’ reaction. “In a tree a few miles from here,” Bórsael said solemnly, trying to read his father’s expression correctly. “He was perfectly safe. We passed some guards on the way home who told us about the search. I spotted him not long after –” “See. I’ll make a warrior out of you yet, brother,” Maergorv tried to quip. Bórsael gave him a thin smile, and then continued. “Maergorv and I managed to catch him and we brought him back with us. He was desperate for us to not bring him to you, but I thought it would be best…” Bórsael trailed off, frowning slightly, obviously doubting if his actions had been wise. Thranduil nodded. “Thank you. You did well. I was concerned that he may have tried to leave for good.” The king could see his sons had a myriad of questions they wanted to ask, but were polite enough to wait and be told what their father thought they needed to know. After a few awkward moments of silence, Thranduil sighed. “I do not think it is best to go into details yet. Please understand that I don’t like keeping secrets from you, but for the moment… Legolas is, as you no doubt can tell, upset. Something has happened in the past few days, and he’s very confused. I have discovered his secret, and for that he fears my reaction. Just try and be supportive and understanding towards your brother for now.” Bórsael and Maergorv nodded slowly. “Would you like me to go talk with him, Ada?” Bórsael asked. Thranduil shook his head. “No, I’ll go do that in a minute.” He hesitated and then smiled warmly. “I’m sorry this had to happen now.” He walked up to each of his sons and enclosed them in warm hugs. “It is good to have you two home. Life was too quiet and full of paperwork without you.” The brothers laughed softly and returned the hugs. Bórsael quickly told his father about a few of the incidents that happened while they were out, and then they left, allowing Thranduil an opportunity to visit Legolas. Thranduil stayed behind in the office for a few more minutes, building up his courage, and trying to sort out what he would say to his son. After a few deep, calming breaths, Thranduil made his way towards his son’s room. When he arrived, he found that the door wasn’t properly shut – as though it had been slammed and bounced back open again. Lightly knocking upon it, and pushing the door open, Thranduil had to scan the room a moment before he spotted his child. Legolas was huddled up in a far corner of the room, his knees drawn up, and his eyes staring listlessly down before him. He did not even react to Thranduil entering his room, although he no doubt knew that his father was now there. “Legolas?” Legolas remained still except for a small, silvery tear, which managed to escape his eye and trail down his cheek. He made no move to wipe it away, or look towards his father. Thranduil’s heart went out towards his son, and it was all he could do to restrain himself from marching over and picking his child up in his arms and rocking him back and forth, whispering soothing words and promising that everything would be okay. He wasn’t sure how Legolas would react if he got too close, and decided not to risk invading his son’s personal space. Closing the door softly behind him, Thranduil then sat down on the floor, resting his back against the door, and pulling his knees up to his chest for support. He bowed his head, and sighed. “Gods… Legolas… I’m so sorry…” His throat closed over, and he had to pause momentarily to keep control. Legolas didn’t move. “Legolas, my son. I cannot begin to imagine how you must be feeling, but I know we need to talk about this…” He looked up at his youngest, but Legolas still hadn’t reacted, so he took that as a sign to continue. “If I had known, that it was you… Please, Legolas, you must believe I would *never*… I’m so sorry…” “You’ve said that already.” Thranduil jumped, not having expected his son to talk. “What?” “You’ve. Said. That. Already. That you’re ‘sorry’.” Thranduil cringed at his son’s tone, believing that Legolas must hate him right now, and had no patience to listen to his father’s insipid apologies, which took nothing back. And could he blame him? But Legolas sighed and shook his head slightly. “You don’t have to be ‘sorry’, Ada.” Thranduil’s heart momentarily bloomed with hope when he heard that his son still called him ‘Ada’. But his happiness quickly failed as Legolas added softly, “It wasn’t your fault. *You* weren’t to blame.” The king’s heart constricted in pain. What right did he have being called ‘Ada’ by a youth whose innocence he had taken? What sort of father was he, where his own son blamed himself for these events? He wanted to shout at his son, shake him and scream ‘It wasn’t your fault, it was mine! Don’t you dare think that you’re the one to blame for this!’ But he kept his emotions under control, not wanting to frighten his child again into running off. “Legolas, please. Don’t say that. It’s not true, you should know that. This was all my fault.” “Don’t be ridiculous, Ada. If it hadn’t been for me… if I hadn’t come to your bed…” Thranduil hit his knee for emphasis. “*I* should have known that you were not Malthenfin! I gave you no chance to tell me it was you; that you didn’t want what I did! …I know you were not willing, Legolas. It was my fault that I did not see that.” Legolas shook his head, not accepting anything his father said. They sat there again in silence, new tears now running down the boy’s cheeks. After a time, Legolas asked huskily, “How did you find out? I tried, - I tried so *hard* to make sure you didn’t – didn’t find out…” He choked back a sob, pulling his legs closer against his chest. Thranduil felt tears well in his own eyes. “I know, lend-ind, but why? It was my burden to bear as well. You shouldn’t have to carry this on your own. It was not your fault at all.” “How?” Legolas repeated firmly, ignoring everything else his father had said. Thranduil sighed. “You were scaring me, locking yourself up and not eating anything… I used the master key to get into your room last night. I heard you, crying in your sleep, and talking… when I saw the passion mark as well…” Thranduil shook his head, tears filling his eyes with the memory of those first few moments when he had realised the truth about whom he had made love too the other night. Legolas chocked back a sob. “You came into my room without my permission?” he asked, clearly outraged and feeling betrayed. Legolas shook his head in shock. After a moment, he said coldly, “You may leave now, *Ada*.” Suddenly that affectionate term seemed like a death sentence on his son’s lips, and Thranduil despaired. “Legolas, please…” Thranduil racked his brain, trying to think of something to say. “Legolas, if you want some time to yourself – to sort things out, I’d be willing to organise for you to stay in another realm somewhere… Please don’t take this as a suggestion that I want you gone. Far from it. I’d much prefer you stay here, especially so we can work things out together. I just want what’s best for you, but I hope you will eventually choose to stay here… I love you too much to lose you, nin- laes.” “…. Leave, Ada.” “Legolas, we need to discuss-” “We’ve discussed this enough!” Legolas shouted, slapping his thigh. “Please leave!” His voiced wavered, and Thranduil could tell that his son was struggling to keep the tears back. “Legolas.” “LEAVE!” For the first time, Legolas turned his head and glared at his father straight-on. All those conflicting emotions of self-hate and pain were evident on the young blond’s face. Again, Legolas could not look at Thranduil for long, and he turned away, staring listlessly before him once more. Thranduil stood up, realising that his son still wasn’t ready to talk yet and confront this issue. It hurt him deeply that he was unable to help ease his son’s pain in anyway, especially as Legolas took all the blame upon himself. The king started to open the door, when he heard a soft, “Ada?” Thranduil turned around hopefully, but Legolas was refusing eye contact again. “Please make sure you close the door properly behind you. I seem to have left it open when I came in.” Thranduil’s heart crumpled in on itself, and it took all his effort to keep his voice steady when he answered. “Of course, nin-iond.” Thranduil left the room and softly shut the door behind him. As he walked back to his office, the sounds of his youngest child’s sobs echoed with him, his own tears now running down his cheeks in sympathy. t.b.c. Ada = Father Lend-ind = sweet heart nin-laes = my child nin-iond = my son Beta’d by Aliaself – thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you! Homepage: www.livejournal.com/users/bone_fauna/ Art page: http://www.livejournal.com/users/bonys_art/ Website: http://bonysfics.topcities.com/ Email: bone_fauna@yahoo.com.au ‘Bared Identities’, by Bone Fauna ~Part 6~ Thranduil opened the office door, and started when he saw that Bórsael was standing there. He felt a moment of embarrassment for the tears running down his face, but that all vanished when his eldest son of several centuries marched over to him and buried him in a great, warm embrace. Thranduil finally broke down and sobbed disheartened against Bórsael’s shoulder. Bórsael just held him and stroked his hair, sometimes crooning and whispering soothing words, sometimes just remaining silent. When Thranduil had no more tears left, he gingerly pulled back and wiped his eyes. “I’m sorry, Bórsael. I –” “Shhhh, Ada. There’s nothing to be sorry for. I could see you were upset, and so I decided to wait for you to come back from Legolas’ room. I thought you could use some support.” Bórsael gave his father a small, affectionate smile, and Thranduil wondered why he deserved such good sons when he was such a lousy father. “How’s Legolas doing?” Bórsael asked, guiding his father into his chair. Thranduil sighed and shook his head. “Not much better than me I imagine, if not even worse. His soul is gravely weighed down.” Bórsael sat in front of his father and put a hand on Thranduil’s knee in concern. “Ada, why won’t you tell me what is troubling the two of you? I can see how much this is tearing you apart. Surely it would help if you talked about it? Let me share your pain and support you.” Thranduil smiled sadly, touched by the wisdom and love of his son’s words, but he shook his head. “I’m sorry, nin-iond. I wish I could, but I fear it would only make things worse if I did what you asked of me.” “Can you not even *vaguely* tell me what troubles you and my brother?” Thranduil closed his eyes and took in a breath, knowing that Bórsael’s request was reasonable. “Your brother… Legolas has had something forced upon him which he was not yet ready to deal with.” Thranduil winced at his choice of words, belatedly realising that they were probably not the best. “Someone has ruthlessly taken his innocence, but…” the king shook his head, at a loss as to how to express the situation without giving too much away. Bórsael looked quite appalled, having realised what his father insinuated. “Someone… someone has – abused – Legolas?” “Aye, but it is more complicated than that, nin-iond.” “How? This is a monstrosity! Why aren’t we doing anything about this?” Thranduil could understand his son’s anger, but regretted that he had now said as much as he had. “Please don’t get so upset, Bórsael. Just trust me when I say that I’m doing the best I can. I would ask that you are also delicate when you tell this to Maergorv. We both know how passionate he can be. I don’t want him doing anything rash which will only upset Legolas more than he is. Do you understand?” Bórsael nodded his head, although it was clear he did not like what his father said. Thranduil sighed and looked out the window. It was black and already late. “You should sleep, Bórsael. You have just returned from patrol. No doubt you are exhausted.” “Aye. Goodnight, Ada. If you need anything, do not hesitate to come to me.” Bórsael stood up and leaned over to kiss his father on the cheek. Thranduil smiled affectionately at his eldest as Bórsael left. Deciding that he had avoided his bedroom long enough, Thranduil reluctantly left his office and made his way towards his quarters. He did not sleep well that night. Meanwhile, Bórsael was preparing for bed when he heard a knock on his door. “Come in, Maergorv. It isn’t locked.” Bórsael’s younger brother opened the door with a frustrated, perplexed expression on his face. “How did you know it was me?” Bórsael grinned, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Because you’re too predictable. You’re here to ask about Ada and me?” Maergorv grumbled something unflattering, and sat down in a chair. “Yes. Did you go see him like you said?” “I did.” “And…?” Bórsael became solemn. “He was crying, Maergorv. I’ve never seen Ada this upset since Nanneth died.” Maergorv thinned his lips, and started playing with a sleeve cuff. “What do you suppose is upsetting Ada and Legolas so much?” Bórsael grimaced. “Ada told me a part of it. He said that someone had taken Legolas’ innocence, but the situation was more complicated than it sounded.” Maergorv went very white, livid with rage. “He said WHAT? You can’t be serious? Who did this? I’ll gut the cowardly bastard right now!” Maergorv jumped up and began pacing his brother’s room, and Bórsael didn’t doubt Maergorv’s threat. “I don’t know who did this, Maergorv, but something tells me your behaviour may not necessarily be appreciated.” “What? Why not?! This ‘elf’ deserves to be punished!” “Think about it,” Bórsael said reasonably. “If it was a simple matter of someone abusing Legolas, surely our brother and Ada would feel free to speak to us of this, and their relationship would not be as strained as what it is. There must be something else happening here which we are not aware of.” Maergorv continued pacing, and gave his brother a suspicious look. “Are you suggesting that Legolas does not consider that he has been taken advantaged of?” Bórsael shrugged. “It is one of many possibilities. Perhaps our brother has taken a lover which Ada does not approve of. It wouldn’t be the first time Ada has overreacted. Especially in the case of Legolas, we both know how protective he is.” Maergorv nodded. It was no secret that Legolas was their father’s favourite, but neither brother begrudged this, as they had never felt any less loved by their father because of his favouritism. Besides, they all felt especially fond of Legolas, not only because he was the ‘baby’ of the household, but because he was the last living reminder of their mother. Bórsael yawned. “I am tired brother, and this worrying and speculation will get us nowhere. Let us pay our brother a visit in the morning, after we have rested somewhat and sorted out our thoughts.” Maergorv nodded, abandoning his pacing. “Alright. I will meet you in the morning. Sleep well, gwanur.” “Good night, gwanur.” ~*~*~*~*~ Legolas groaned as a noise woke him. He tried focusing his eyes, but failed. He decided that it might not be a bad idea just to go back to sleep. But then he could hear voices. Strange voices that sounded as though they were coming from a great distance away. He tried again to focus his eyes and succeeded somewhat this time. It was light, and he realised that it must be morning. He found that he was sitting in the same place his father had left him yesterday evening. He must have cried himself to sleep after telling his father to shut the door behind him. Yet, there was still something wrong with his sight. Everything looked as though it was underwater, and he realised after a few moments that he was shaking. Cold. He felt cold. But that was odd, he was an elf, he shouldn’t feel the cold… “Legolas…?” The voice echoed, and sounded vaguely familiar. Bórsael? Legolas groaned as he felt a wave of nausea wash over him, and his head throbbed. His eyes half drifted shut, and Legolas thought there was something about that which he should worry about, but couldn’t remember what. He wished the talking voices would go away. He was so tired… “Legolas? Elbereth…!” He struggled to keep his eyes open as he felt someone sit next to him. He could see two blurry figures, and someone was waving a hand in front of his face. “Legolas, can you hear me? Legolas? …Valar!” He could hear the words, but they didn’t seem to register or make any sense in his fogged mind. Legolas whimpered as he felt strong arms move under him and lift him up. His whole body was limp and shivering, and it was all he could do to weakly clutch at the one who held him, and try and soak up their warmth. “Bórsael, what’s wrong with him?” “Shhh, I don’t know. Go fetch a healer, quickly.” Legolas could feel himself being carried over and then placed in his bed. It felt good to be off the cold, hard ground and tucked into his soft bed. The elf who sounded like Bórsael was still with him, and was now stroking his hair. This felt so nice, but he was still cold and felt ill. After some time where he drifted in and out of consciousness, Legolas heard two people come into his room. One of the new arrivals pulled back the quilts and started to touch and prod him and pulled his eyelids back. He didn’t like this person touching his body, and he was now freezing without the quilts. He whimpered and began to cry, confused and feeling very ill. “What are you doing to him?!” He heard the other elf say angrily, this one sounded like Maergorv. Were his brothers here? “Calm down, Master Maergorv. I am not hurting him, I’m just checking him over to make sure everything is in order.” “Is he alright?” “I can’t find anything specifically wrong. You said he’s been upset and not eating? It’s probably just that. His body is telling him that he needs rest and food. I’ll give him a sleeping drought for now. I shouldn’t think there is anything to worry about, but…” “But what?” “Well, if he gets any worse, make sure to call me. You may also like to inform his father. Thranduil has been very worried over Legolas these past few days, I hear.” Legolas stopped crying when he felt the quilts being pulled up and tucked about him again. There was something else as well. Hot water bottles? Oh, that was good… felt so nice… “Should we try and feed him now?” “Hmmm… best not too. He might choke on something solid in his present state. The sleeping tea with skullcap will do for now. When he wakens, try and make him eat something simple. He won’t suffer in the meantime if he has to wait a little longer.” Legolas sighed, happily allowing the elves to converse about him as he soaked up the warmth from the hot water bottles. He was disturbed from his peace when the strange elf lifted his head slightly and pressed a cup to his lips. He had little choice but to drink, and recognised the liquid as tea with sleeping herbs mixed in it. He could feel the warm fluid run right through him and settle in his empty stomach. He smiled contentedly when he felt the warmth and the drugs pull him back towards oblivion… ~*~*~*~*~ Bórsael sat on the edge of the bed, gently stroking Legolas’ hair. Maergorv sat on the other side of the bed, watching his sleeping brother being petted. “I did not realise it was this serious,” Bórsael said quietly. He looked quite worried which was unusual for him, as he normally had a strong reign over his emotions and facial expressions. “Legolas must be pretty distraught to have worked himself up into this state.” Maergorv nodded solemnly, his mind too numb to think of a response. They sat there in relative silence, watching their brother. At some stage, Legolas mumbled something and turned on his side in order to snuggle closer to Bórsael. Bórsael and Maergorv smiled down affectionately, but then Maergorv frowned. “What’s that?” he whispered harshly. “What?” Bórsael asked, trying to see what his brother was talking about. Maergorv reached out and brushed a few strands of Legolas’ hair from his neck, revealing a fading, but still distinguishable bruise. “That,” he said, although the tone of his voice indicated he had already realised exactly what ‘that’ was. Bórsael thinned his lips, not liking the passion mark on his brother’s neck anymore than Maergorv did. “Do you suppose Legolas’ ‘lover’ made that?” Maergorv asked, barely concealing a snarl in his voice. Bórsael shook his head, feeling quite lost and helpless. “I’m not sure, although it is likely. Do you think this is how Ada found out about it, that he saw this love-bite?” Maergorv shrugged, clearly still fuming that someone had dared laid a hand on his little brother. “I don’t like this, Bórsael. And I’m not pleased that Ada is keeping secrets.” “I don’t like it either, Maergorv. But we both know that Ada would not keep this from us unless he thought it absolutely necessary.” “I just wish he would tell us who it was,” Maergorv fumed. “I would like to question this ‘lover’. I do not think his intentions could have been very honourable if he has now deserted Legolas when he suffers so much.” Bórsael shrugged. “We cannot judge yet, gwanur. Perhaps this ‘lover’ had no choice about leaving Legolas alone. If Ada knows who it is, he may have banished them. After all, Legolas is still underage, and therefore Ada still possess parental rights to safeguard him.” Maergorv sighed. “Would Ada do that? Surely he can see how much this is tearing Legolas up?” “Like I said, gwanur, we do not know the whole story. Until we do, it is best we try and support Legolas and Ada without judging either of them on mere speculation. We do not want to cause more pain and stress to these two than there already is.” “You’re right,” Maergorv conceded gloomily. “I always am,” Bórsael teased softly, and won a small smile from Maergorv’s lips. “Why don’t you stay with Legolas. I’ll go tell Ada about what happened. The healer was right, he will want to know.” Maergorv nodded and watched as Bórsael left the room quietly. Legolas whimpered slightly at the loss of contact. To make up for it, Maergorv lay down next to his brother, and spooned up behind him. He heard Legolas sigh, contented, and he wrapped his arms protectively about the boy, wishing there was more he could do to help. ~*~*~*~*~ Thranduil woke at the noise of his bedroom door opening. He blinked his eyes a few times, surprised to see that it was finally morning. Last night had been restless. He had slept only lightly, the fear of falling into too deep a sleep and having nightmares again had kept him awake most of the time. He raised his head from his bed, and saw Bórsael closing the door behind him. “Bórsael? Is something wrong, nin-iond?” “Not exactly, Ada. Maergorv and I went to visit Legolas this morning, and found him shaking and disorientated on the floor in a corner of his room.” “Valar! Has he been there all this time?” Thranduil asked concerned, sitting upright in bed. Bórsael held up a hand to placate his father. “It’s alright, Ada. We sent for a healer, and he is fairly certain there is nothing to worry about. Legolas just needs some food and rest. He has been given a sleeping draught for the time being. You can visit him in a moment, if you wish, but not before I ask you a few questions.” Thranduil frowned, fairly certain he was not going to like the sort of questions his son would ask. “First of all,” Bórsael began, “are you fairly certain that Legolas was raped?” “Very certain…” Thranduil bit his lip, seeing that his son was staring at him, waiting for him to explain. “I… saw it happen.” Bórsael nodded slowly. “Yes. But are you certain that Legolas was *unwilling*? Perhaps you thought he was being taken against his will. He, however, may think differently.” Thranduil gave a thin, humourless smile. “No. Legolas was not willing, although his body *was* used against him. Your brother may be under the impression that he wanted what happened to him, but that was only an instinctive, carnal reaction. His mind, I assure you, was far from willing.” Bórsael bowed his head, obviously thinking this over. It was clear that he still thought Thranduil may be overreacting and reading the situation wrong. Why else had a rift grown between Legolas and his father, in which Legolas was too scared to even be in the same room as his Ada? On the other hand, Thranduil was a reasonable elf, and he sounded fairly calm and certain in his convictions now. The eldest prince sighed. He was still confused. Bórsael had hoped his questions might enlighten the situation for him, but they had only made him more puzzled. “I still don’t understand, Ada. Why is Legolas afraid of being near you? And where is this ‘lover’, this elf who abused him?” Thranduil sighed, growing distressed. “Legolas is afraid of me, I think, because he fears my judgement over this incident. As for the ‘lover’, he is nearby, but I must ask you again to not inquire about his identity. Not when Legolas is still in such a fragile state and needs your support. May I see him, now?” Bórsael smiled thinly. “Of course, Ada. I know better than to keep you caged up for long… I still wish you could confide in me.” “I know. So do I.” Bórsael nodded and then made to leave, but Thranduil reached out a hand and grabbed his son’s arm. Bórsael looked at his father inquiringly. “You will make a fine king one day, Bórsael,” Thranduil said seriously. “And an even finer father.” Bórsael smiled and nodded. “Thank you, Ada. I learn from the best.” He bowed his head in acknowledgment of Thranduil with a quick wink, and then left the room. Thranduil felt his heart sink, wishing his son’s words were true. t.b.c. Ada = Father nin-iond = my son Nanneth = mother gwanur = brother Beta’d by Aliaself – thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you! Homepage: www.livejournal.com/users/bone_fauna/ Website: http://bonysfics.topcities.com/ Art page: http://www.livejournal.com/users/bonys_art/ Email: bone_fauna@yahoo.com.au ‘Bared Identities’, by Bone Fauna ~Part 7~ Thranduil had quickly changed and now entered his youngest son’s room. He smiled affectionately, seeing Maergorv snuggled up behind Legolas. Legolas, although looking content in his brother’s arms, was visibly unwell. He had dark circles under his glazed eyes, and looked thinner and paler than usual. Maergorv looked up as Thranduil entered the room, and smiled softly. He sat up, careful not to disturb his brother, and affectionately kissed Legolas’ brow. With another secretive smile towards Thranduil, Maergorv left, knowing his father wanted to spend some time alone with the boy. Thranduil was slightly surprised at this unexpected display of perceptiveness from his second son, but was deeply grateful for it nonetheless. Thranduil hesitated. His first reaction had been to sit on the edge of the bed, but he noticed that Legolas now frowned because of Maergorv’s absence. In the end, and knowing that Legolas should remain safely asleep because of the draught, Thranduil settled himself down next to his son on the bed, lying face to face with his child. He wrapped an arm about the boy’s waist, and then nestled the blond head beneath his chin. He heard Legolas sigh softly, almost purring his pleasure at being held safely again. Thranduil smiled, saddened at the knowledge that Legolas would react differently if he was aware of who was really holding him. /What am I going to do?/ Thranduil thought, absentmindedly stroking Legolas’ hair. /How am I ever going to make things right?/ He looked down at his son’s face, and took a moment to marvel at the beauty he saw there. The delicate, sculpted features. The creamy skin, blue eyes, soft lips… His son would have been a prize for any elf, male or female, to have won. Yet instead of enjoying his youth and beauty, Legolas was trying to recover from, and deal with, the stress, sadness, pain, confusion and burdens his own father had put upon him. Had he, Thranduil, completely ruined any chance of happiness for his son by taking him? Would Legolas ever recover? Legolas did not deserve this. The boy had done nothing wrong to deserve such a horrible fate of being forced to grow up so fast. And it was all the king’s fault. Thranduil choked back a sob, afraid his crying might disturb his son. In his sleep, Legolas seemed to be able to sense his father’s distress, and snuggled closer to his Ada. Thranduil lay there in silence, sometimes thinking, at other times slipping off into a state of not-quite-sleep. After a few hours, the king decided it might be dangerous to stay any longer, before the sleeping tea wore off and Legolas woke, becoming distressed at finding himself in his father’s arms. Thranduil quietly left the room, and was surprised to find Maergorv sitting in the hall, polishing a dagger to pass the time. He looked up and smiled. “All is well?” “As well as could be, given the circumstances,” Thranduil admitted. He paused, and then asked, “Would you and your brother mind if you perhaps take it in turns to keep an eye on Legolas? I do not think it wise that he stays alone for now. He might relapse, or do something rash.” Maergorv nodded, growing pale at the thought that Legolas may become worse. “I will tell Bórsael. He and I would only be too happy to do this.” “Thank you. Where is your brother?” Maergorv grinned. “In your office with Istidhren, finishing today’s reports. They both agreed you could use a break.” Thranduil threw his arms up into the air dramatically. “*Now* what am I to do with my time?” Maergorv laughed, and stood up. “Why don’t you enjoy your break? Perhaps you’d like a nice, long bath and something to eat, seeing as you skipped breakfast. And then, a nap, maybe? I must admit, Ada, you don’t look much better than Legolas at the moment.” Thranduil rolled his eyes sarcastically, but the scary thing was, he knew his son was right. All this worry over Legolas had not left him in the best of health. “I’ll go stay with Legolas now,” Maergorv said, moving towards the door. “I’m sure Bórsael will come along soon to check on things, and he can take over from there.” Thranduil nodded, and patted his son’s shoulder affectionately. “Thank you, Maergorv. I sometimes forget just how mature you can be.” Maergorv screwed up his face at that, and poked out his tongue in distaste. “Ugh! Don’t go spreading rumours like that around, Ada. Next thing you know, people will be looking to give me jobs of responsibility!” Thranduil laughed and shook his head, walking towards his rooms to take his son’s advice and soak in his bath for a while. Maergorv went into his younger brother’s room again, and for a while, everything in the house was pleasant and calm. ~*~*~*~*~ Legolas slowly became conscious of the soft sound of someone humming. As sleep left him, and his eyes regained their focus, Legolas found that he was lying in his bed. The sun filtering in through the window was warm and dusky, indicating that it was late afternoon. His eyes flickered to the side of the bed where he saw Bórsael leaning back in a chair reading a book, his feet resting on the edge of the bed, humming quietly to himself. It took but a moment for his elder brother to sense eyes upon him, and he looked up and smiled at Legolas, glad to see the young prince finally aware. “Ahhh, so sleeping beauty awakens,” he said teasingly, getting up and sitting by the edge of the bed. Legolas felt too content and relaxed to rise to the bait, and allowed the affectionate taunt to slip by without fuss. “How are you feeling, gwanur? Can I get you anything?” “Water?” Legolas croaked, his throat dry. Bórsael nodded, and walked into the adjoining bathroom to fill up a glass from the faucet. Legolas managed to push himself into an upright position, though he found that his arms had lost most of their strength. What had happened? He tried to remember, and brief flashes of memory – blurry images and disconcerted conversations involving his brothers – came back to him. Had he been ill? How was that possible, he was an elf! Bórsael came back and handed Legolas the glass of water. “Are you alright, dilthen-pen? Do you remember much of what happened?” Legolas shook his head and frowned, confused. Bórsael sighed. “Maergorv and I came to visit you this morning, and we found you on the floor in the corner, barely conscious. The healer said it was your body’s way of telling you that you needed to eat more and rest, and worry less.” Bórsael bit his lip, wondering if it was a good idea to ask his next question. “You have had many distressing thoughts on your mind, Legolas?” Legolas paled and clutched the glass in his hands tightly. How much did his brother’s know? Had their father told them anything? Legolas took a sip of his water, buying himself time and trying to steady his nerves. He wanted to tell Bórsael what had happened. He wanted to tell him *so much*, but feared what his brother’s reaction would be. “What did Ada tell you?” he asked finally, realising that his brothers had, no doubt, interrogated the king as to why he had run away from home. Bórsael was silent for a while, which made Legolas very nervous. When Legolas thought he could bare it no longer, Bórsael finally spoke. “He said that it was a complicated situation. That someone had forced themselves upon you.” Bórsael took a moment to watch Legolas’ reaction, but the young prince just stared at his lap into his glass. “Legolas, is this true, dilthen-pen?” Bórsael reached out a hand to gently caress Legolas face, but Legolas flinched from the touch. Bórsael dropped his hand, hurt. Legolas choked back a sob and shook his head. “It – it wasn’t like that,” he said, quietly, trying not to cry. “Maybe not, but did someone force themselves onto you, Legolas?” Legolas sobbed and shook his head again, not believing that he was having this conversation. “I… you don’t know! You weren’t there!” He realised he was trembling and he was growing frantic, wishing he was anywhere but under his brother’s discerning gaze. Bórsael was very shrewd, and Legolas began to fear that he might let something slip which would make his older brother realise the truth. He couldn’t let that happen. He had already failed to keep this a secret from his father; he was not about to burden his brother’s with the truth. Especially when they would likely only be revolted by it, and by him. “No. I wasn’t there, meld-pen. So why don’t you tell me what happened, so that I can help you deal with this? I promise I will not judge you.” “No. No!” Legolas sobbed, his fingers clenched dangerously tight about the fragile glass. “Legolas. Won’t you even tell me who made that love-bite on your neck?” Bórsael reached out his hand again to lightly touch the bruise on the prince’s neck, but Legolas gasped and scooted out of his reach, pressing himself up tight against the bed’s headboard. “No, don’t! Don’t touch me!” he cried, panicked. The half empty glass of water shook threateningly in his hands. “Legolas, please. It’s me, Bórsael. I’m not going hurt you. Why will you not just tell me why you’re so afraid of Ada –” Legolas cried out in horror and threw the glass across the room where it shattered in a splay of glass shards and water. Bórsael jumped back, shocked into silence. Legolas began sobbing again, and pulled his knees against himself. “Leave, Bórsael! Just g-go! Can’t… can’t you see I- I don’t want to talk?!” “Legolas –” “No! It won’t m-make it better! It will only- only make it worse! Go away! Please, j-just go away…” Yet Bórsael planned to do anything but. He walked back over to the bed and pulled his younger brother into his arms. Legolas stiffened slightly, but then his grief became too much, and he leant against his brother as he cried. Bórsael held him and rocked him gently, until, after an hour or so, Legolas quietened and allowed himself to be soothed by his eldest brother. “Legolas?” Bórsael asked tentatively when he was sure the boy was calm. Legolas tensed, afraid his brother was going to try and interrogate him again. But his brother simply asked, “Would you try and eat some food, dilthen-pen? I hear you have barely eaten anything since – it – happened, and that was a few days ago.” Legolas relaxed, glad that his brother wasn’t trying to question him anymore. Yet he was feeling ill again, and the thought of food only made his stomach roll. He shook his head against his brother’s chest. “Are you sure? Please try and eat *something*, meld-pen,” Bórsael pleaded. Legolas shook his head again. “I will only throw it up,” he said softly, and then added, “I’ll promise to eat something later.” Bórsael sighed, and decided that this would have to do for now. “How about some tea, could you stomach that?” Legolas considered this, and although he would have preferred not to, he relented. “Okay.” Bórsael kissed his brother on the forehead as a reward, and settled him back under the quilts. He did not tell Legolas that he mixed more of the sleeping herbs in the drink, for he wasn’t sure if his younger brother would protest or not. Yet it was a good idea for Legolas to get more sound sleep if he was to recover anytime soon, especially after he had upset the boy with his foolish questions. Legolas drank the tea, and then laid down when Bórsael said he would stay until he had fallen asleep, and that Maergorv would come and watch over him. Although this last comment was to make him feel at ease, Legolas fell asleep fretting, worried that he might say something in his sleep, which would reveal his secrets to his brothers. After all, that was how his father had found out. The drug took him under. ~*~*~*~*~ Thranduil groaned and moved restlessly about in bed, his sleep disturbed by more nightmares… He dreamt, oddly enough, of being in his bed. Only he wasn’t alone. Malthenfin was under him on his stomach, tied up, blindfolded and gagged. It all seemed very familiar… The young elf was moaning deliriously as the king ravished his body with hand, lips and tongue. Thranduil took particular pleasure in tasting his lover this night. He licked up the elf’s soft neck and behind his ear, delighting in the small shiver that ran through his lover’s body. He then sucked on the elf’s ear for a time, a favourite bedroom habit of his, knowing that it drove his victim mad. Malthenfin whimpered and started bucking into the mattress, obviously trying to ease his burning need. “Tut, tut,” Thranduil whispered into the blond’s ear, and put his strong arms down on the elf’s buttocks, preventing his lover from moving. “Can’t have you finishing without me, now can we?” Malthenfin mumbled something through the gag which didn’t sound very flattering, but Thranduil ignored it, and began kissing his way down the delicate back. The tied elf arched up into the tender caresses, though his bonds gave him very little room to move. Thranduil then moved his tongue down the elf’s cleft, and took a moment to quickly flick his tongue inside the dark opening. Malthenfin grunted and bucked, but Thranduil pulled away and moved down further, lightly kissing and teasing his lover’s thighs, the undersides of his knees, and even the gentle curve of his feet. By this stage, his lover was trembling terribly with pent up need. Thranduil moved back up and laid his body on top of the elf, allowing his weight and warmth to soothe the blond. “Are you ready, nin-lend? I plan to fuck you right through the bed tonight.” Malthenfin moaned pleadingly, telling his lord to hurry up. Thranduil grinned, and reached for the oil. He dipped his fingers into it, and slowly, teasingly, inserted one digit. Malthenfin moaned again and pushed back, not at all pleased with the slow pace. “What’s the matter, ascar? Am I going too fast?” Thranduil asked cruelly, and then pulled his finger in and out even slower. In… …and out… …in… …and out… …in… Malthenfin moaned and muttered a whole string of words which yes, Thranduil was definitely sure were uncomplimentary. He chuckled softly, and suddenly inserted two more fingers, picking up the pace. Malthenfin hissed, but then relaxed, moaning as the incredible sensations washed through him. He pushed back against the fingers, so close to finding release. Thranduil suddenly pulled his fingers out, to the vocal displeasure of his lover, and then oiled his throbbing erection, which had been ignored for far too long now. It took all his self-control not to just bring himself to completion, but the thought of what awaited him if he could just spare a few moments to take his hand off himself, allowed him to stop. He put the vial of oil away, and then bent over his lover’s body. Guiding himself with one hand, he entered Malthenfin’s body carefully, in one long, incredible push. Malthenfin moaned as he was stretched and filled, and Thranduil groaned with him. The king took a moment to just enjoy the feel of his lover’s velvety passage wrapped about him, and then he pulled almost all the way out, and pushed back in, stroking more than thrusting. Malthenfin moaned sweetly and Thranduil made slow love to him, allowing them both to relax and enjoy the beauty and pleasure of the act. Then Thranduil felt a strong feeling of possessiveness sweep over him, and he wanted nothing more than to claim this elf and make him his. He started thrusting faster and with more force, and both their voices became harsher. “Mine,” Thranduil growled, practically shoving himself into his lover’s body. He wrapped his hands about the elf’s hips, all the better to thrust into Malthenfin’s body, but also to hold the elf close in a further claim of possession. Malthenfin whimpered and pushed back as best he could, wanting more of his lord inside him. “Do you hear me, my love?” Thranduil whispered huskily, his body dripping in sweat. “You are mine. All mine… Let me posses you, *Legolas*, like you know you want to be possessed.” Suddenly something in the dream changed, and the elf tied before him was no longer gagged or blindfolded. The material had disappeared, and Thranduil was clearly able to see that the elf he made love to was, indeed, his son. Yet for some reason, that didn’t deter him in the slightest. He continued fucking the boy, and what was more, Legolas appeared to enjoy it. “Do you hear me, Legolas, nin-iond? You belong to no one else. You are *mine*!” “Yes,” Legolas groaned, his eyes shut in bliss as his father rode him. “I am yours! All yours… Now please, Ada, finish this before I go mad!” Thranduil didn’t have to be told twice, and he picked up the pace, thrusting into Legolas in a frenzied passion. They both soon lost all breath for conversation. Thranduil reached a hand down underneath his son and began stroking Legolas’ arousal with deft, strong fingers, and the youth began to whimper as he reached his climax. He came all over his father’s hand, his body trembling with the aftershock. Thranduil continued to push into him, almost going mad at the delicious sensation of his son’s passage quivering and clenching about his straining length. He finally came, the tension building and finally erupting with mind-blowing force. He cried out his son’s name as he came, and the sound on his lips woke him up from his dream… …The first two things Thranduil realised when he woke up was that one, his sheets were now suspiciously wet and sticky, and two, that he could not recall ever having had more satisfying sex, even though it was just a dream, in all his life. With these two thoughts foremost in his mind, the King of Mirkwood barely made it to the toilet in time before he threw up. ~*~*~*~*~ “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry…!” Legolas woke to the screams, only belatedly realising that it was his own voice crying out the repeated apologies. Bórsael was next to him in an instant, and enfolded Legolas in a tight, comforting embrace. Legolas sobbed, a small part of his mind, which wasn’t completely distressed, registering that he must have slept through Maergorv’s watch, as his eldest brother was again watching over him, and the light outside was becoming grey with the approaching dawn. “Hush, Legolas. Shhh, it is alright, dilthen-pen. I am here, you are safe and loved. Do not cry. Did you have a bad dream?” Legolas didn’t bother to answer, still in too much shock over his nightmare to reply The realisation that he had come dangerously close to saying things in his sleep which would have made his brother *very* suspicious only made him more frightened to open his mouth. In fact, his brothers had made up a large part of his nightmare. He had dreamt that his brothers had somehow discovered what had happened between him and their father. They had been horrified and disgusted, and claimed they no longer had a younger brother. Legolas had begged with them to forgive him, but the had only pushed him into the mud and spat on him, and then they left. The dream then shifted, and Legolas had gone to his father’s room for comfort from his brother’s spite. His father was asleep in his bed, so Legolas had decided not to disturb him. He snuggled up to his father, but after a while, his father rolled over and started calling him ‘Malthenfin’ and began touching him intimately. Legolas had not known what to do, seeing that his Ada was still asleep. In the end, Legolas had allowed his father to take him. Only the king woke up half way through the act, and was disgusted to find that he was making love to his son. He screamed and yelled at Legolas, told him that he was disowned, and thus called for the guards to take him away from Mirkwood. Legolas had been dragged out kicking, screaming, and pleading for his father to reconsider, sobbing over and over that he was sorry… That’s when he had woken up, and found Bórsael in his room. It was very distressing, to think that his brother hated him one moment, and then to find himself being comforted by his brother the next. Legolas was simply thankful he had not said more than ‘I’m sorry’ out loud. Yet if his brothers continued to watch over him, sooner or later, one of them was bound to find out. Legolas was terrified. “It’s okay, Legolas. Hush now,” Bórsael continued to soothe, rocking Legolas back and forth. The young prince allowed it for a time, but pulled back when he was afraid he might drift off to sleep again, and start talking. “I am fine now, Bórsael,” he said weakly, rubbing the tears away from his face. “You don’t have to watch over me like this. I know you have more important things to do.” “Nothing is more important than you, Legolas,” Bórsael said softly, and it hurt how much sincerity Legolas heard in his voice. But he knew his brother would think differently if only he knew the truth. “Will you tell me about your nightmare?” Bórsael asked gently, stroking Legolas’ hair. Legolas pulled his head out from under his brother’s hand, pretending not to see the flickered hurt expression that crossed Bórsael’s features as he did so. “No. It was but a silly dream.” “Dreams are never silly,” Bórsael said, “especially when they still haunt you during the day. What do you fear in simply telling me what happened, gwanur?” “Your love,” Legolas whispered desolately. “My love?” “Aye. I fear I shall lose it, as well as your respect. But I fear I shall even lose *you* as well. You, and Maergorv, and even Ada.” Bórsael sighed, confused. “I don’t *understand*, Legolas. How do you expect things to go back to the way they were before if you don’t *talk* about what happened?” Legolas crossed his arms and sulked, staring off to the spot where he had smashed the glass several hours ago, only now noticing that the mess had been cleared up. Bórsael still tried to counsel his brother. “Legolas, I realise that what happened to you must have awful. You must have felt so confused and alone, and you must now think that no one understands. In some ways that’s true, I could never pretend to understand what it must have been like for you when you were raped.” Legolas winced at the choice of words, but remained unresponsive. “But no one can help you until you start talking about how you are feeling. I promise you that we will not judge you or love you less because of it. It wasn’t your fault.” Legolas remained silent. Bórsael stared at him for a while, but when he realised that Legolas was being stubborn, he sighed, and turned about and picked up a tray from the bedside table. There were pieces of fruit and sweetbread upon it. The sight alone almost made Legolas sick. “You promised you would eat something, gwanur.” Legolas could feel himself turning green. “I do not want any of that.” Bórsael scowled. “Legolas, you’ve eaten nothing for more than three days! Do you *want* to starve yourself to death?” /Yes!/ Legolas thought, and then was horrified with himself for thinking such a thing. It was that morbid thought which finally made him swallow some pear. That, and his brother’s warning that if he didn’t eat willingly, then Bórsael would shove the food down his throat. Legolas didn’t doubt the threat. Satisfied that Legolas had some sustenance in him, Bórsael admitted that he had to go prepare for a short patrol duty, but Maergorv would be along soon. Legolas nodded listlessly, feeling his stomach protest at the food he’d eaten. When Bórsael left, Legolas clambered out of bed and made it to the toilet just in time to throw up. He began sobbing, feeling miserable, sick and cold. Maergorv found him like that several minutes later, bent over the toilet bowl, shivering and crying. His brother helped him back in bed, a worried expression on his face as Legolas easily slipped back into sleep. Maergorv felt the boy’s brow, and wasn’t pleased to find it clammy. Legolas tossed and turned, his sleep restless, almost delirious. ~*~*~*~*~ Thranduil, having recovered enough from his own nightmare to make a public appearance, visited Legolas not long after. Bórsael had come and visited him just before leaving for the morning patrol, and Thranduil did not like the sounds of his son’s condition. When he entered the room, he found Maergorv sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down worriedly at Legolas. Legolas, if anything, appeared worse than he had yesterday, and he moaned quietly in his sleep. Thranduil wondered what nightmares haunted his child’s rest. Maergorv looked up, and attempted a smile for his father’s sake, but failed rather miserably. “He is not improving?” Thranduil asked quietly. Maergorv shook his head. “Bórsael tells me he managed to make the boy eat something.” Maergorv laughed harshly. “If he did, it is no longer doing Legolas any good,” and he pointed his chin in the direction of the bathroom. Thranduil understood that his son had thrown it up. “Maybe –” Maergorv began, but was cut short when Legolas cried out. “Ada, please!” Thranduil paled, and Maergorv flashed his father a hard look. “I’m sorry!…sorry… didn’t know… You hate me!…so sorry…Ada…!” It was too much for Maergorv to bear, and he stood up, furious. “Can’t you see what you’re doing to him?” he said sharply to his father, but he kept his voice quiet for Legolas’ sake. “Can’t you just forgive him? Surely this ‘lover’ is not enough reason to make you hate him so? He’s going to starve himself to death, or go insane! Why are you just sitting by and letting it happen? Why wont you forgive him for whatever it is you think he’s done wrong?” Thranduil bowed his head, feeling as though he deserved the reprimand, even though his son only spoke out of anger and misunderstanding. “I do not hate him, Maergorv. I love him, and I have forgiven him. I always will… But he’s taking unnecessary blame upon himself, and I can’t help him until he helps himself!” Thranduil clenched his hands into fists as strong feelings of uselessness and helplessness washed over him. He began to cry, despite his best attempts not to. Maergorv was somewhat startled. He could barely remember having seen his father cry before. He stood up and embraced the king, feeling ashamed he had berated Thranduil when it was clear his father only wanted the best for Legolas. “Come on,” he said quietly. “I’ll take you back to your rooms. Your presence here is doing no one any good.” Thranduil nodded miserably, and allowed his second child to escort him to his quarters. Meanwhile, Legolas continued to dream… t.b.c. Ada = Father gwanur = brother dilthen pen = little one nin-iond = my son meld pen = dear one nin lend = my sweet ascar = wild one Beta’d by Aliaself – thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you! Homepage: www.livejournal.com/users/bone_fauna/ Website: http://bonysfics.topcities.com/ Art page: http://www.livejournal.com/users/bonys_art/ Email: bone_fauna@yahoo.com.au ‘Bared Identities’, by Bone Fauna ~Part 8~ Legolas sighed, content. He dreamt, and in his dream, he had managed to keep the event of his father making love to him a secret, even from Thranduil himself. Life had progressed happily, even though he had been forced to withdraw somewhat from his family in order to protect the truth. Then everything went wrong. Thranduil had brought up that night in a conversation with Malthenfin, who had been very confused. The young elf had declared that he had not visited the king that night, as he had seen that Legolas had gone into the lord’s room. It wasn’t hard for Legolas’ father and brothers to put the pieces together. Bórsael and Maergorv looked at Legolas with such contempt and loathing, that the young prince thought he would die of shame. Yet it was his father’s look of betrayal, shock and even disgust which hurt the most. His brothers started calling him names and asking him ‘why’, but Legolas was too distraught to answer them satisfactorily. They hauled him away to a small dungeon, where he was kept and sparsely fed for several days. He was informed that the king had disowned him, and was contemplating sending him away from Mirkwood. Legolas pleaded for long hours not to be banished, and in the end, he was allowed to remain as a servant, although he was treated more like a slave. His brothers hated him, and they spat on him and kicked him whenever they could. Thranduil, however, would simply pretend that Legolas was never there whenever they were in the same room together, and Legolas wept bitter tears in his cell at night for that, more than for what his brother’s did to him. At least his brother’s acted as though he existed. Sometimes, however, Legolas had seen his father look at him, and there was such hurt and incomprehension in his eyes, that the young prince often wondered why he didn’t end his life every time he saw that haunted look. Then one day, when Legolas was scrubbing the floor in the throne room, Thranduil walked over to him and whispered, “Why, Legolas? Why did you do it?” Legolas burst into tears and sobbed, “I didn’t mean too! It was an accident, Ada! I never meant for it to happen!” Thranduil shook his head, clearly upset yet still confused. “If that is so, why are you still here, Legolas? Why are you tolerating this punishment if you do not deserve it?” “Because I *do* deserve it, Ada!,” Legolas cried bitterly. “Because I cannot bear the alternative of being tossed out and torn from your side, never to see you again or hear your voice! Because I love you!” Thranduil looked very sad. “Yes, but in what way, Legolas? In what way do you love me?” … … Legolas sat bolt right up in bed with a gasp. He was sweating and panting heavily, his entire body trembling in fear, and his eyes wide and hysterical. Maergorv, who sat near the bed, jumped when Legolas woke up so suddenly. He rushed over to his younger brother’s side. “Is something wrong, Legolas?” Legolas felt tears run down his burning cheeks, but he didn’t care. He slowly focused on his brother’s face, his expression horrified, and he whispered, “I’m going to be sick.” Maergorv nodded, somewhat scared at his brother’s behaviour. He quickly helped Legolas out of the bed and to the bathroom. Legolas doubled up over the bowl and threw up everything in his stomach (which wasn’t much) and continued to heave even when his body had little else to give. Maergorv sat by, holding back the boy’s hair, and wetting his brother’s hot neck with some water. After a time, Legolas just hung limply over the toilet bowl, at first sobbing, and then starring deadly into space, his mind screaming and deeply disturbed by his dream. *In what way do you love me…?* Legolas shuddered and began heaving again, but it passed quickly with his stomach being so empty. After a time, Legolas became aware that Maergorv was trying to soothe him, and Legolas flinched back from his touch. “Go away!” he cried, alarmed. Maergorv was clearly stunned and confused. “What? Legolas!” Legolas pulled away, shivering. “I’m fine now, Maergorv. Can’t I have five minutes to myself where I can grieve in peace?” Maergorv thinned his lips, not liking his brother’s choice of words. *Grieve in peace*? “Legolas, you’re clearly not well. I don’t think it’s a good idea to leave you by –” “Gods, Maergorv! I don’t want you mothering over me. Go! Please, just go…” “Legolas,” Maergorv tried to soothe, moving closer and wrapping an arm about his brother. Legolas yelped and pulled back, to his older brother’s great surprise. “Please, Maergorv, don’t…” Legolas feared his brother’s touch, although he didn’t know why. Was it because he was afraid that somehow Maergorv would learn the truth just by touching him? Did he fear that his brother would spit on him suddenly, and call him a slut? Or was he afraid his brother’s kindness would undo him, and he would not be able to resist the flow of words that may fall from his lips if he opened up? Legolas couldn’t allow his brothers close. He had to do everything in his power to get rid of them. Maergorv shook his head, exasperated at his brother’s behaviour. “I just want to help, Legolas. I don’t understand what –” “What don’t you understand, you stupid oaf?” snarled Legolas, hoping to push his brother with insults. “Just leave me in peace, is that so hard to do?!” Maergorv blinked in shock at his brother’s vicious words, and realised that Legolas would only become more nasty and hysterical if he didn’t give his brother some space. Sighing, distressed, Maergorv nodded. “Alright, gwanur. I’ll give you some time to yourself, but please remember that Bórsael and I, and even Ada are here if you want us. We only want what’s best for you.” Legolas turned his head away, ignoring his brother. He heard Maergorv get up and leave, shutting the bedroom door behind him. Legolas relaxed somewhat, and curled up in the corner of the bathroom floor. *But in what way do you love me?* Legolas began to sob, his mind still reeling from his dream. What way did he love his Ada? He thought he had loved Thranduil like a father, but was it still the same now? He didn’t know, and he was frightened and confused. /I wish this had never happened/ he thought to himself. /I wish I were dead…/ Legolas sobbed and shivered, his body growing cold on the tiled floor of the bathroom, and his stomach protested from both his heaving and lack of food. Legolas had never felt more miserable in all his life. “I just wish it would end,” he whispered, not even aware that he spoke aloud now. He closed his eyes, wanting to shut the rest of the world out. After a time, darkness claimed him, and his worries evaporated into deep, deep sleep… ~*~*~*~*~ Bórsael walked back through the corridors of his home after having returned from the morning patrol. The watch had been uneventful, though he had enjoyed being among the men. Despite that he was more a scholar than a soldier, Bórsael nevertheless appreciated the camaraderie with the other male elves, especially as it had provided some relief from the stress and troubles of home at the moment. Bórsael turned a corner and walked past a door leading into the library. He peered inside nonchalantly as he went passed, and then stopped in his tracks. Backing up, he looked inside again, and saw that his brother Maergorv was sitting at one of the tables, flipping through a large tome. Bórsael walked inside, and saw that the rest of the library was deserted, which wasn’t surprising, considering that it was now lunchtime. “Maergorv, what brings you to this part of the house. I didn’t think I would ever find you in the library again after our tutoring as children finished.” Maergorv smiled thinly, and pointed to the book he was looking through. “I was wondering if this might explain what is wrong with Legolas. He seems worse, Bórsael, and I do not believe his case to be simply from stress and hunger.” Bórsael frowned. “Worse?” “Aye. His dreams are disturbed by nightmares which now make him throw up when he awakens. He is growing hysterical and irritable, and still doesn’t eat. His body rejected that fruit which you managed to get him to swallow this morning.” “Have you told the healer yet?” “No. I thought I might consult this book of healing first, in case I was getting overly worried about nothing.” Bórsael didn’t like the sounds of this. “Who is watching over Legolas now?” Maergorv gave him a guilty look. “Ah, no-one. Legolas wanted some time to himself. ‘To grieve’, he said. I could see he wasn’t getting any better with me standing over him, so I thought it best to give him what he wanted.” Bórsael shook his head, a cold feeling running through him. “Something doesn’t seem right about this. We’d best check on him.” Maergorv nodded, and followed his elder brother as they left the library. “How long has he been unattended,” Bórsael inquired as they briskly walked back. “About … two hours, I think.” Bórsael felt another feeling of dread consume him, and he silently picked up his pace. When they reached the bedroom, Bórsael was almost running. He threw open the door, and found the bedroom deserted. He looked at Maergorv, who turned pale upon realising that Legolas wasn’t here. Bórsael walked inside, and then went to the bathroom. “Elbereth!” Maergorv heard his brother swear, and quickly went into the bathroom to see what Bórsael had found. Legolas lay sprawled on the floor in a corner of the cold, hard room. His eyes were shut – not a g