An Affliction Of The Heart 20

An Affliction Of The Heart

Part 20

Posted: January 25, 2008
Title: An Affliction of the Heart
Author: Larien Elengasse

Summary: Legolas and Gildor go for a ride; the twins learn what it is like to face Thranduil and Glorfindel in battle.

*****

“Why do I have a bad feeling about this?” Elrohir murmured, as he watched the king disrobe until Thranduil wore nothing but his breeches.

“Because you anticipate being throttled?” Elladan queried, watching the king’s steward pull his lord’s honey colored locks into a single braid.

“And you do not?”

“Oh, I never said that, brother.”

“Do not worry, he will not hurt you . . . too badly,” Glorfindel said with a grin as he passed the twins and took a seat on a low wall surrounding the sand-filled pit.

“Thank you for the vote of confidence,” Elrohir returned.

Glorfindel merely smiled and watched the twins pale a little as Thranduil beckoned to them to join him.

“Well, it has been a good life, if a brief one,” Elladan said quietly, a slight smirk on his face as he motioned to Elrohir to follow. “Time to meet our fate, little brother.”

“Oh, will you stop it,” Elrohir grumbled, tugging down upon his tunic and lifting his chin. “I will not go in there with my tail tucked between my legs.”

“Oh, I hope you tucked something else snugly between your legs, as I would hate to see you damaged in such a way,” Elladan murmured so that only Elrohir could hear him.

Elrohir snorted. “You truly do have a singular mind. You mind yours and I will mind my own.”

“Agreed,” Elladan responded with a grin.

Thranduil stood with his hands upon his hips watching the twins approach somewhat cautiously. They tried to put up a brave front, but it was clear they were nervous. ‘My reputation has spread as far as Imladris,’ Thranduil thought with a mischievous grin. ‘Good.’

“Come, come. You look as though you walk to the gallows. If this is going to be your attitude then you are already beaten.”

“Forgive us, my lord,” Elrohir answered. “We are just unsure as to what to expect.”

“Do you know what to expect when you face a rabble of orcs?”

“Yes,” Elladan answered.

Thranduil sighed and shook his head. “Tsk, tsk. Have you learned nothing from Legolas?” He stepped close to the twins and looked directly into their eyes, one after the other. “You never know what they might do. They have no sense of fairness or mercy, there are no depths to which they will not sink, and never forget that for them there is something worse than death – to return to their lord in defeat is worse than dying from the blows of a thousand elven swords. The enemy that has nothing to lose is the most dangerous enemy of all.”

“Yes, my lord. Forgive my arrogance,” Elladan answered as he bowed his head.

“‘Tis not arrogance,” Thranduil responded, placing his hand upon the peredhel’s shoulder. “‘Tis ignorance. You cannot know what you have not learned – yet.”

The twins nodded in unison and lifted their gazes to look into the king’s eyes. Elladan could not help but notice the slight twinkle in them, as if Thranduil had some surprise planned.

Thranduil continued, “Your father is not the strongest warrior I have ever known, nor is he the fastest with a sword or bow. What he does better than anyone I have ever met is know his enemy and know how to defeat him. Your father is a master planner, and he inspires his warriors to follow him anywhere. Those are most admirable traits in any leader.”

The twins thought that for just a moment, the king looked past them, and before they could turn to see what it was that Thranduil looked at, he spoke again. “I am a different kind of warrior. I have not your father’s foresight or ultimate skill in battle planning. But what I do have is determination, strength, and speed. I have killed spiders four times my size; I have battled four to five orcs at once; and I have the unique honor of actually having bested your tutor here - once. Is this not true, Glorfindel?”

“‘Tis regrettably true,” Glorfindel said, placing his hands on Elladan and Elrohir’s shoulders. “His majesty is one of few that hold that place of honor. Though I hold still that it was an accident and I doubt it could happen again,” he added with a smirk.

As Elladan and Elrohir turned to look at their tutor, they found he had also disrobed and was wearing naught but his breeches. They looked at one another with trepidation; it seemed they were to face both Thranduil and Glorfindel at the same time.

“The time is coming when you will ride into battle with your warriors – they will look to you for leadership and courage, and you must not fail them, ever,” Glorfindel said seriously. “His majesty and I will see to it that you have the skills and the confidence to lead your warriors well and to defeat any enemy.”

“We shall try not to disappoint you,” the twins said in unison. Then Elladan looked at his twin. “This is going to be a long and painful day,” he murmured as they moved into the sand pit.

* * * *

Gildor and Legolas rode into the woods, heading northeast and into the sun. Gildor kept his eyes upon the surrounding wood, watching and listening for any sign of trouble, with only occasional glances at the prince, who sat confidently upon his stallion, his quiver, bow, and knives strapped to his back.

“We ride east,” Legolas said quietly.

“Aye. ‘Tis the only part of the wood that I have not explored.”

“It is the safest by far, except for the immediate surrounds of the caves. Or at least it once was…”

The horses nickered nervously and Gildor slowly drew his sword, looking around the wood but seeing nothing that should upset their mounts.

“There is no danger here,” Legolas said quietly. “At least not any longer.”

Ahead of them was a large, burned section of the wood. The ground was black, trees were burned, and there was soot upon the rocks that enclosed the small clearing from the north. Gildor watched as Legolas dismounted and slowly walked toward the blackened ground, feeling for fallen branches or obstacles as he picked his way toward the rocks.

Gildor followed, still holding his sword. There was something unsettled in this place, but he could not determine what the cause was until he began to smell something.

“It is sulfur,” Legolas said softly, kneeling at the edge of the blackened ground. “It is what is left behind when a dragon is slain.”

It dawned on Gildor that this was the place where Legolas had been attacked, and that the horses picked up on the feelings this place evoked in the prince.

“We need not stay,” Gildor said quietly.

“No. I need to do this; I need to face what happened to me,” Legolas said with determination. “It came upon me from the sky, I did not have time to hide. It pinned me to the ground here,” he said, pointing toward the blackened ground. “It tried to read my mind, but I was able to keep it from discovering where the caves were. It threatened me with terrible things, things that I will not repeat. If Elladan and Elrohir had not come when they did… I fear I would have told that beast anything to keep it from doing what it threatened to do. Of course, even if I had told it all, it still would have tortured and defiled me, because there is no honesty in creatures like that.”

“No, there is none,” Gildor agreed. He knelt beside Legolas. “The bravest of elves would have felt the same way. There is no shame in being afraid.”

Legolas nodded. “Aye, I know that now; I no longer feel ashamed.” He turned his vacant gaze toward where Gildor’s voice had come from. “I need to regain my strength. I need to feel like myself again,” he said quietly.

“I shall do my best to help you do that, Legolas.”

“Come. One day this place will return to what it was and will be beautiful and green again. On that day I shall return, but until then I will come here no more. This part of my life is over and it is time to start anew.”

Gildor stood as Legolas regained his feet, resisting, as he always did, the urge to help the prince. Legolas wanted to feel strong again and part of that was allowing him to be independent. Even if the prince were to trip and fall, Gildor must allow him to do so – Legolas needed to feel like he could succeed on his own. They walked back toward the horses and then rode away, leaving the scarred wood behind.

* * * *

Elladan strained to break the hold Thranduil had on him, but it was to no avail – the king was far larger and stronger than he was. Pinned against Thranduil’s broad chest he saw that his brother was having much the same difficulty with Glorfindel. Elrohir growled and struggled, and Glorfindel looked as if he were putting forth no more effort than it would take to hold a struggling elfling.

Finally, Thranduil released him and he spun, taking a swing at the king’s jaw and just barely missing his mark. Thranduil ducked the swing and caught Elladan’s fist. “Anger, Elladan, is what unbalances you. You cannot become angry or you will lose the fight.”

Elladan bent over, placing his hands on his knees and gasping for air. He was exhausted. “Forgive me. I am merely . . . frustrated.”

Glorfindel promptly dropped Elrohir upon his backside in the sand and said, “Rest and we shall start again.”

Thranduil patted Elladan on the back and winked at his lover, who was clearly bemused.

“Apparently, I have not spent enough time training these two in hand to hand combat.”

“How often have you had to fight orcs hand to hand?” Elladan queried.

“One never knows when they may lose their weapon, or have an orc come upon them unawares from behind. If you think his majesty and I are being rough on you, think again. We are far kinder than an orc.”

“One tried to rip my throat open with its teeth once,” Thranduil remarked casually.

“Aye, I have been bit as well. Besides the fact that it is disgusting, the infection is most unpleasant,” Glorfindel added.

“What did you do?” Elrohir asked Thranduil, a look of surprise written on his face.

Thranduil smiled. “I crushed its skull with my hands. I had to wear a most unattractive bandage for weeks afterward. That wound took a long time to heal.”

Elladan had an expression of utter distaste on his face and he shuddered. He could not imagine being bitten by one of those foul creatures. “They drink your blood and eat your flesh, do they not?”

“Aye, they seem to enjoy it. If they can keep you alive while doing it, all the better for them,” Thranduil answered.

“They need to be exterminated,” Elladan said sternly, his eyes darkening slightly.

“They are vermin,” Glorfindel said seriously, “but never underestimate them. They are not brainless animals. They are filled with hate and they have but one purpose – to kill everything in their path.”

Elladan looked at his tutor. “I understand.”

Glorfindel smiled. “Good.” Holding out his hand to Elrohir, he said, “Come, try again.”

*****

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