Unjust Consequences

Summary: none given.

Elrohir watched from his corner of the library as the rain fell over the hills and valleys of Imladris. He saw the droplets strike the window pane in condensed fury, each individually trying to beat the sturdy stone walls of The Last Homely Home. They created small rivulets as they traveled down the cool glass and Elrohir sat, transfixed, as the storm continued to pound- as it had been doing for days. �

� �Liquified anger,� he thought wryly, and closed the book he had been trying to find sanctuary with in defeat. �The Valar have cursed me with these incessant storms. Will I find no peace anywhere?��

�� As he mused, the door to the library opened and Elrohir glanced in time to see Elladan come charging towards him rambunctiously. �

�� �There you are, brother! Have you been in here all morning?� His twin swiftly pulled a chair up next to him and merrily stole the useless book before him. Tossing it carelessly onto a shelf, he fixed his eyes, that held a mischievous glint in them, on Elrohir. �

� �I was reading that,� Elrohir complained lightly, not in the least bit bothered by the sudden intrusion of his privacy.�

�� �Well, I know something that will hold your attention far longer than a closed book,� countered the older twin. �I�ve come into the knowledge that we will be hosting a visitor come a fortnight from now.��

��� Elrohir glanced up from his perusal of the chips in the table. �Arwen is returning from Lorien then?��

�� Elladan adapted a look between pain and indignation, raising his eyebrow slightly at his twin. �You consider our sister a guest?��

�� �She spends enough time away from Imladris to honor the title, yes,� bantered Elrohir with a smirk. Over the past fifty years, the Rivendell household had only seen their beloved lady twice- Arwen much preferred the golden woods of her grandmother to the quiet halls of her father.�

�� �While I wouldn�t mind seeing Arwen soon, it is another who shall grace themself in our halls within a few weeks.� Elladan paused dramatically, and Elrohir rolled his eyes, but amused his brother nonetheless and gave him an inquiring smirk from across the table. Elladan�s black eyes glowed in the dim firelight and his mischievous glee practically oozed off his tongue over his next words. �We are hosts to the Prince of Mirkwood and the royal family, of course.��

��� A blanket of ice covered Elrohir�s chest and he found himself unable to breathe. The storm raged on and the winds joined it as they rattled the windows fiercly. Ice pumped through his veins as Elrohir gazed at his twin in disbelief. So soon after...�

��� �Truly,� he questioned dull, his voice barely a whisper, �does Thranduil�s son truly journey to Imladris now?��

���� Elladan nodded affirmatively, and quite oblivious to Elrohir�s now pale features, continued to recount his story. �I heard Ada and Glorfindel talking about it near Ada�s study. You know, they seemed rather worried about the letter that came with the news, but since Thranduil wrote it I could see why...�

���

As his twin chattered on, lightning flashed across the Imladrian sky. No longer able to hear Elladan�s twittering, Elrohir gazed fearfully out the window as the light and wrath of the Valar illuminated his haunted contenaunce.�

********�

��� Thranduil sighed wearily, and vainly tried to wipe the drops of sweat that poured down his son�s forehead as the caravan of elves continued along their journey. At the head, the King of Mirkwood set the pace at a light trot- though he wanted to go faster he doubted his flaxen-haired son could handle a quicker speed. Legolas sat with his father, held up only by the strong arms that encircled his waist and cradled him while the troop of horses pounded through the forest. He groaned quietly when the terrain became rough, but the blissful walks of unconsciousness kept him unaware of the pain.

��� The need to reach Imladris before the morn swelled in the King of Mirkwood. His original missive to the Lord of the House that ruled the borders had been less than civil, but Thranduil rationalized that it was due to the fact that his infamous anger had been unleashed and he had wanted answers and justice from the irresponsible elf that had caused his son such grief. What he hadn�t counted on was Legolas himself going to seek those answers out himself through the dreaded woods of Mirkwood alone. That missed insight may have cost him the life off his only child. He glanced down anxiously as another coughing fit racked through Legolas� body.

��� Legolas� entire body was afire. His limbs, heavy and burdensome, felt as if they were chained to mithril rings. He couldn�t move- a pair of arms surrounded him and added to the painful heat that rolled through his body. Every breath felt as if a Balrog lay deep in his lungs and used a fiery whip, that tore through his insides with molten agony whenever he let air pass. His whole body ached and every jolt from the horse brought searing pain to his abused muscles and flesh. Half-true hallucination of orc and warg battles raged through his mind in a frenzy of deliriousness. When his eyes opened in the morning light, all Thranduil could see was a thin film of grey that covered the once familiar deep-blue of his son�s irises. He whispered prayers to the Valar as blood began to pour from Legolas� parched lips.�

******************�

�Elrohir, these are not the accusations of a liar,� the Lord of Imladris stated gravely, his hard gaze rapt upon the dark-haired elf before him.� Glorfindel and Erestor flanked either side of him, impassively observing the scene before them. Elrohir�s face was hidden as he bent his head to the floor, his eyes guarded when he didn�t refuse to meet his elder�s gaze. They knew he couldn�t dispute the charges against him even before he had hesitantly entered his father�s study. �

���� �My son, look at me.� Lord Elrond waited patiently until the twin finally acquiesced. Those dark eyes, so like his own, were filled with misery, fear, and the undeniable traces of shame, but Elrond knew that even though all he wanted was to give his son a warm embrace and reassurances, the troubling facts couldn�t be ignored. �Thranduil sent me these letters, Elrohir, and what he accuses you of I could hardly believe myself when first I read them. Now, however, your actions over the past few months give me reason to believe these are true, and that Thranduil has not merely vented his anger on the closest elf possible.��

���� During his father�s tirade Elrohir had shrunk back to his meek stance, but at his father�s reprimand he sharply look up from the ground.� His eyes flittered across the room before landing on the missive in front of him.�

��� �Would you lie to know of his accusations,� Elrond questioned slowly. Calmly. Dangerously. Elrohir shuddered at the tone, but knowing he was unable to refuse the request, nodded slightly nonetheless. The anger of the Woodland King was famous and the son of Elrond held no doubt that he would be give good cause to oppose any number of exaggerations on Thranduil�s part. �

�� �Very well.� Imladris� Lord picked up the worn parchment. �...My son was very much excited over the visit of Elrohir last spring and often I would hear from the gossip of my servants of their misadventures amongst the creatures that plague our land. My heart was glad, for never had I seen such happiness radiate from my son since his mother left these shores. Over time, many of their exploits became more daring and secretive and soon I was aware from the hushed whispers of the guards that both had been seen enjoying the other comforts of my realm. I kept silent on the matter for a� time, and it was in good faith for soon Legolas came to me with the joyous news of a proposal to bond made by your son...��

���� Elrond stopped soon after and gazed unmercifully at his son with heavy disapproval. By now, Elrohir had paled slightly and nervously shuffled as he beared the brunt of his shame in the knowledge that his Adar knew the truth. Elrond, however, was relentless. �That you were going to bond without even telling your family disappoints me slightly, to say the least, my son. Judging by your face I�m to assume that the remaining parts of the letter bear only the truth, and that you have brought immense shame upon this household.� He tossed the missive angrily onto the desk again. �

���� Elrohir swallowed the lump in his throat before he dared raise his head and meet his father�s eye. Looking for sympathy in the two other elves in the room, and finding none, he wetted his lips and muttered haltingly, �...What does it say?��

����� Without looking from his son, Elrond clutched his hands tightly to his side. �Thranduil...� he choked out in anger, before taking a heavy breath and continuing, �...Thranduil spent an enlarged amount of time describing the happiness Mirkwood was gifted with from its Prince over those few weeks leading up to the bonding, until the eve before the ceremony. Imagine my disbelief, Elrohir, as I read that Legolas had gone to your chambers that night, not only to find you gone, but no trace of your visit, and not even a note explaining your sudden departure.� Elrond�s eyes flashed with a battle fury that Elrohir had never witnessed in all his lifetime, and he watched trepidly as his Ada once again recited from the angry message of the woodland king. �...No words can describe the grief my son endured upon the realization that one whom he loved above all others could deal a blow that harshly. Legolas� health began to diminish rapidly; he grew quiet and withdrawn as the days passed by, and though I�ve tried to cure him of his heartache, I must now accept the woe that your son wrought upon Mirkwood. I fear his actions may have cost my realm its greatest treasure it�s ever known. He is fading.� �

���� A gasp echoed off the walls of the study as Elrond�s voice sharply ended on the somber note. He quietly folded the missive one last time before sending the final inquiry to his son. �What spurred you into forsaking an oath so pure that you could cause that agony on the princling, Elrohir?��

��� To hear these words issued from his father�s mouth sent the last visage of any color from

Elrohir�s face. Standing silently, he wavered as the consequences of his misgivings appeared to catch up with him. Not only had the truth been uncovered, but now he knew the condition in which the other elf was to come to visit Imladris and the purpose it served. Thranduil hoped to heal Legolas through Elrond�s skills. That�s why he had sent a letter, so Elrond could prepare. Unwittingly, he was leading Legolas to his doom. Faced with his shameful transgressions at last, and knowing he deserved any pain that came upon him, Elrohir opened his mouth to explain when a sound from the courtyard interrupted.

���

The galloping of horses reached all the sharp ears in the study and Elrond hurriedly went to the window and opened it to see who arrived. The rain still troubled the valley, but it had become more of a drizzle as time went on. It was not the rain, though, that caught the attention of the son of Elrond, but the group of wood-elves that currently nestled in the small courtyard of the Last Homely Home.

��� �Please!� King Thranduil cried piteously, cradling a limp figure close in his arms. �Save him, save him.��

***********�

����� Elrond came out of the House of Healing hours later and met the somber expressions of the company of elves that remained in the hall. He glanced at Thranduil, who had been intently glaring at Elrohir from across opposite ends, when Elrond approached. After he had handed Legolas to the skilled healer, it had taken the strength and reasoning of both Glorfindel and Erestor to calm the feral hate and rage in which Thranduil launched himself at the dark-haired twin. Even now, a guard stood between them to ensure the peace.�

�� When Elrond arrived, he sighed sadly towards the group but steadily looked into the King of Mirkwood�s stormy eyes. �I have done all that is in my power. There is nothing more I can do for him, Thranduil.� He looked quickly over at Elrohir and nodded slightly at the anxious expression in the twin�s face. Elrohir darted into the room before any other could oppose.�

��� �I do not want him anywhere near my son, Elrond!� the King shouted angrily, beginning to push his way to the door that led to his son. As he came closer, Elrond�s hand on his shoulder stopped him. �

�� �My friend, this is the only way in which there is hope of Legolas surviving. He is conscious now, but I do not know for how long, and you know as well as I a broken heart can not easily be mended with herbs and the healing arts. Give Elrohir another chance to prove his love to your son.�

���

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�

Watching the prince sleep fitfully on the healing bed, Elrohir listened to the constant patter on the window. The storm had returned full force and seemed to almost beckon him towards remembering the grief he had caused.�

� �Elrohir.��

��� The weak choke of his name from those lis spurred Elrohir into action. He dumped a small cloth into a bowl of cool water and spread it lightly over the parched lips of the young warrior before him. His shame-filled eyes never left the eerily colored irises, worn with pain and heartache. �

�� �Why?��

�� That simple question cracked the defenses Elrohir had set upon himself the night he journeyed from the dark woods of his lover. His fear palpable to the occupant on the bed, the son of Elrond shook his head unthinkingly. �

��� �I was afraid,� he confessed awkwardly, but fell silent after that.

��

� �Of what?� It almost sounded like a plea to his ears. All he could give in answer was another fearful shake of his head. The prince fell under the spell of the drugs soon after. He held Legolas� hand as the night carried out, and over time the harsh, irregular breathing of the fading warrior evened out. Behind him, the pattern of the rain had changed from sporadic and angry, to a light rhythmic beat against the walls of stone. The lightning, however, still sliced across the sky when the sun appeared the next morning.