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Walls of Glass by cheekybeak

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Story notes:
As always all of this is Tolkiens and none of it is mine!

A bit of an exercise for me to force me to try and expand my writing ability, and also because my angsty Legolas and Elrohir wouldn't leave me alone. A story more about the emotions of the characters trapped inside an unthinkable situation than the situation itself.

I have listed this story as slash although it is only borderline I think. There is nothing graphic in here, not so much as a kiss although a Male/Male relationship is heavily alluded to emotionally......actually more than alluded to, there IS one, but the two guys never get to do more than hug! Sorry about that!

He walked through the streets with his brothers. Men jostled him, the streets were packed and buzzing with the hum of many voices. Excitement was in the air. The city was in the mood to celebrate. People had travelled from far and wide, as had he and his brother, come from Imladris to be here for the occasion.

He should feel happy, joyous even. His brothers both were. He watched them as they walked, animated and smiling with each other but he did not join them. This evening Legolas would come, in fact he had expected to see him here when they arrived and the impulse to leave at once for Ithilien when he discovered they had made it to Minus Tirith before him had been a strong one but he had resisted it, though now thinking on it he knew not why.

Nor did he know why he was so melancholy, what was it that dragged at his spirit and prevented him from being uplifted by the happiness within the city walls. A feeling of wrongness surrounded him and yet nothing was wrong.....everything was right, but he could not shake it and could not ignore it. His senses screamed at him that all was not well but as hard as he tried he could not understand their message.

"Elrohir!" His brother laughed at him, "What is wrong with you, you are miles away"

He looked up with surprise, they had been speaking to him and he had not even heard them. How could that be?
He saw behind them through the jostling crowds a solider running towards them. His face tense and anxious.

"My Lord!" He cried, and Aragorn swung around for it could only be him who was needed. He pushed his way through the crowds who parted for their king and went to speak to the young man. For several long minutes their heads bent together, faces stern, radiating tension. Elrohir could feel it even feet away from them as he was.

He watched Aragorn as he dismissed the man and returned to them slowly. He searched his face and saw nothing there he liked. The lightness and laughter had vanished replaced by lines of worry and fatigue.

"Something is wrong" he said to Elladan beside him. "See how he looks? Something is wrong."

Elladan dismissed him, "It will be some plan for the celebration that has gone astray. He is tired from all this preparation, you know he is."

But he was not convinced by his brother's reassurance and when Aragorn stood before him face drawn and eyes filled with compassion and concern he shivered. He shut his eyes. He did not want to see the stress on his brothers face. This could not be good.

He felt a hand fall to rest on his shoulder. The sounds of the crowds faded from his ears, became subtle whispers on the edges of his consciousness.

"Elrohir..." He refused to look, he refused to hear this. The warning screamed in his ears, every fibre of his being shouted the wrongness to his very core.

He opened his eyes and met his little brothers stare.

"A boy has arrived at the city, he was travelling on the road to Ithilien, he and his father. He says they have stumbled across an attack....." Aragorns voice shook at the words but he took a breath and continued, "an attack on two elves, one of them is dead, the other........he could not say."

"Legolas." It was all Elrohir could say. The name echoed in his mind.....Legolas, his beloved. And he knew, he knew that the warning had been a real one.

Elladan gripped his arm.
"You do not know that! You jump to conclusions Brother."

"I know it. I have known it all day and I have ignored it."

He could not be dead, he told himself. He could not, for surely he would know it. He would know it in his heart if that were true.

"I have sent for horses and men. We will ride out, the boy will lead us there. You will come?"

"Of course I will come."
He wondered why his brother felt he had to ask him that. Was it not self evident? A numbness descended upon him and he felt Elladan at his side steering him through the crowds towards the gate and the road. What was waiting for him at the end of that road he wondered ? Was it his doom? For without Legolas, what was he?

The ride was fast and hard and his thoughts were in turmoil. He should have gone to Ithilien when he arrived as he had desired. This would not have happened had he been there. He saw the man, the boy's father, waiting for them some way in the distance and spurred his horse on faster leaving his brothers in his wake. Catapulting off it he ran with speed he did not know he had, sparing not a word for the old man stopping only at the first body lying face down on the ground.

He dropped to his knees beside it and held his breath, his heart pounding in his chest so hard he thought it would split him open. Slowly, gingerly he turned it over and gagged in horror for the sight that met his eyes was a grotesque one. It had once been an elf but who could tell. The face a beaten pulp, the throat cut from ear to ear, a puddle of blood spreading out towards him. He gasped, his eyes did not believe what he saw, who would do this?

But it was not him!
It was not him, and he could breathe again.

He turned his head towards the other figure where his brothers, with the old man, now knelt and stumbled to his feet where he stood uncertainly. Could he go there? Did he dare?

Elladan raised his head to look at him and seeing him standing there leapt to his feet baring the way. He held his hand against his chest.

"Do not look Elrohir, You do not want to see this."

And he did not. Every cell in his body was telling him this. Don't look, don't look and it will not be true. He struggled to breathe, his chest tight with panic. He had to know and yet he did not want to.

"Does he live?" He forced out the agonised words.

His brother's hands were on him, he pulled him close.


A simple word yet it filled him with a sudden desperate desire to move. He had to be there with him.

"Let me go. Let me go to him." Angrily he pushed his brother to one side but Elladan was fast and held him back even as he struggled.

"No! Elrohir, believe me, do not -"

But he would have none of it. No one would keep him away, and he won his way free and was there, at his side. Gently he stroked the golden hair, dirty and blood stained as it was and his eyes roamed over the lovely face, bruised and battered beyond recognition. A strangled cry of pain left his lips. He lay on his side, his Legolas, and he wondered at that until his hand touching his back came away soaked in blood. The horrific realisation came to him slowly as he gazed upon the back a mess of blood, broken bleeding flesh showing through the ripped and soiled shirt.

"He has been flogged.... whipped!"

He felt the tears stream down his face. It was unbelievable to him this could have happened. He bent his head close so his tears fell, landing on the face he loved and trickling down, down over the bruises, the broken body. He looked up and his eyes met those of Aragorn, they were locked in a shared gaze of horror and pain.

Elladan reached over and gently touched him.

"Stand aside Elrohir, let us treat him."

He was overtaken by a surge of rage.

"Who has done this? Who would dare? I will kill them!" And he meant it. At that very moment he felt he could tear them apart with his bare hands. Angrily he stood, pushing past his brother to try and reach for clear air. His chest heaved in a anguished attempt to breathe. He could not stay there, he had to get away so he strode, through the bewildered men who surrounded him and away to the fields and solitude where he collapsed to ground, a keening cry escaped from his throat as the pain inside him tore him apart.

He did not know how long he stayed there, It felt like forever and yet no time at all, until Elladan came, quietness and calm and sat beside him.

"We go now." he said. "There is no time to waste, he needs more than we can do here."

"I will carry him, he will ride with me!" He was adamant.

But Elladan would have none of it.
"You know that can't be so. Estel will take him, he needs care you cannot give."

He made to protest but it fell on deaf ears and he knew what his brother said was true.

"I know you wish him close to you Elrohir, I understand, but Estel loves him almost as much as you do. He is safe with him. We will ride ahead. Stay with the Men. See that....." He stumbled over the words, " See that Legolas's Silvan friend is well cared for. Legolas would not wish to leave him alone with them...after this...." He nodded towards the dead elf, Elrohir had almost forgotten of that horror.

If asked later he would not have been able to speak of the ride back as he remembered little of it. Somehow he reached the city. Somehow he arranged for the body to be cared for and somehow he found his way to where they had bought his lover but how he did those things he had no idea.

His sister and the Dwarf were there when he arrived, waiting in silence outside the room and when he saw her the numbness inside him broke and he sobbed out her name.

"Arwen.......they have.......I cannot....." He could not form the words and sank down beside her.

"Hush," she pulled him into her arms. He leant against her and as she gently stroked his hair, filling him with love and peace.
"It will be well, It will be well" she whispered and he believed her, because the thought if it was not was too horrible to bear.

How long it was until Aragorn appeared he did not know. He walked through the door looking pale and strained.

Arwen rose at once and went to him, embracing him, leaving Elrohir feeling bereft and alone an aching emptiness at his side where before there had been her warmth and comfort. The familiar flash of resentment flew through his mind and he struggled to push it aside. He must not feel this now.

"Estel," she said quietly, "Can we see him?"

"He sleeps, in fact he has not yet woken, we are not sure.....there may be damage." He gestured weakly toward the room. "Go in Elrohir, we have kept you apart from him too long."

So he stood and without a word ventured in. Elladan looked up as he entered, his face grave and solemn but he ignored him. He did not wish to do anything except look upon Legolas. Softly, gently he reached out to touch the face of the one he loved, the one who was by some miracle still with him,

And he wept.