Voices In The Dark

Title: Voices In The Dark
Author: Nikkiling
Pairing: Legolas/OC, Legolas/?(He's finally agreed, but should I tell?)
Rating: NC-17 (Just in case)
Warning: NCS, Mentions/Memories of child abuse, Self-Harm, WIP
Summery: Thranduil sends one of his sons to Imladris, fearing that the stresses of constant battle against the encroaching darkness may be too much for the young prince. Little does anyone know the prince's true state of mind...
Disclaimer: This wonderful world belongs to Tolkien. I'm just borrowing the characters for a time and adding a few of my own.
Author's note: Reviews will be greatly appreciated. Bear with me; it's my first time. Also, mental health tends to be a nebulous science in some aspects. Any inconsistencies will be attributed to the unknowns of elven physiology. Ha!
*This* denotes thought...or something to that effect.

A/N: Okay, intros are done, everyone is here, now the fun begins! Except this particular chapter has been driving ME nuts! If you can stick around after this, things will really start to get interesting.

And thanks to Ki-fors for your input. I hope this one is better...

Chapter Four: Interrupted Thoughts

He entered the spacious room and softly closed the door behind him. His packs he set down upon a waiting high-backed chair while he looked about his new lodgings curiously. The room had been crafted with a delicate precision. Intricate filigree climbed over the walls reminiscent of a forest canopy. A rather large bed of the same design sat to one side, along with a matching nightstand with an oil lamp, a small wardrobe and dressing table, a bookshelf containing several leather-bound tombs, and a soft, dark green rug that covered the wooden floor. An empty fireplace was built into the far wall, but due to the warmth of the season it wasn't likely to be needed anytime soon. A balcony overlooking a section of extensive gardens provided a resplendent view of the outside world, and also let soft, fragrant breezes circulate throughout the room when opened. A small washing room was also included, although any real bathing would have to be done in the private bathhouses provided for such.

*Very pleasant,* he thought, admiring the quilted blanket resting on the spacious bed. It contained a pattern of small, interlocking leaves of various shades of green that complemented the dark red wood of the bedframe and nightstand. The whole room seemed designed to put one at ease, especially one who came from a vast woodland realm.

He began unpacking his bags, pulling out various articles of clothing and laying them neatly folded or hanging in the wardrobe. His bow, sword, and knives he placed upon a nearby rack especially made for holding such implements. When he reached the bottom of his packs he paused a moment before pulling out a simple wooden box about as long as his forearm.

He didn't recognize the curious object, which was made of a smooth, golden oak. Its lid was inlayed with an intricate carving of a mottled kakapo tail feather, the only decoration on an otherwise plain wooden box. He carefully slid it open, revealing more beautiful feathers of all shapes and sizes lying within. Some he recognized from birds encountered on his various scouting missions, while others were completely unknown.

*Oh, that's mine,* came a small, clear voice from out of nowhere. He suddenly felt himself become disconnected, and without any conscious action his fingers moved to close the box. With light, youthful steps he walked over to the dressing table, pulled open one of the bottom drawers, and placed the box inside where it would be safe. As he passed the mirror he glanced into it and felt a moment's disorientation. The face was not his, although he couldn't explain why, or whose it belonged to. Feeling a slight shudder creep down his spine he walked back to the open packs, and the strange detached sensation disappeared.

He shook away the odd feeling with a heavy sigh and reached once more into the leather saddlebags. One last object was jammed deep into the corner of one of the packs and he pulled it out. A stuffed cloth doll with black, wooden button eyes and black hair of colored wool stared piteously up at him. He couldn't recall where this object came from either, or how it happened to be stashed away in his bags. While it was possible that it was a joke from one of his fellow scouts, but he had a strong suspicion that it didn’t originate from them.

*That’s Oiolaire’s doll,* the cheerful, childlike voice responded again, confirming his thoughts. This time he looked about the room warily, making sure no one had entered without his notice, however unlikely. Indeed the room was still empty, and both the doors shut. There was no one to witness his suddenly odd behavior.

"Go away, Elanor," he whispered harshly, setting the doll to one side. He knew that voice, which somehow originated from his own mind. Its source was a very young elfling with long dark gold hair and bright summer blue eyes; a strange, childish spirit that liked to pester him at inopportune times. It was similar to the violent fighting spirit that took control during the worst of his battles, only more annoying in its lack of purpose.

He could recall a period time many years ago when he was just a young elfling and there had been more such spirits to gain his attention. He had thought they were normal. His imaginary friends, he called them, except some weren't very friendly, and tended to get him into all kinds of trouble. Then one day Master Saeldis had noticed him speaking to himself, and questioned him about it. The whispering voices were suddenly deemed unnatural in origin, and most likely to be the work of the very Dark Lord whose presence was tainting their borders. He was told he must to strive to banish them from his mind. With Master Saeldis’ help, of course. He couldn't remember what his tutor did, only that soon after they had dissipated until he could hear only the soft, almost melodic hush in the back of his mind he was so familiar with.

It hadn't been until several years after the fire that the louder murmurs had begun again, and they had been getting stronger in recent years, with the individual voices occasionally making themselves known. Odd thoughts began to filter through his consciousness, thoughts that didn't sound right. The voice of a young child asking for a piece of honeycake, or an older voice eager to begin a fight. Their return had scared him at first, and he wondered for a long time if an evil presence had re-entered his mind. Anxiety and fear had seemed to be the most prevalent expressions. Whispering, taunting, planning, screaming... he wished they would all just go away, but knew that wishing was a futile gesture. They had been there for a very long time, and weren't about to leave upon a whim. He just wished he could remember how to get rid of them like before.

Legolas could hear the other voices whispering in the background, slowly rising in crescendo like an approaching flood. He briefly allowed his mind to drift, his twilight eyes becoming slightly unfocused as he concentrated on the sounds they made. The usual expressions of fear and doubt, anger and frustration passed through his mind. It seemed a design of utter chaos, yet it was mostly centered upon the unexpected presence of his former tutor. This he still could not understand, and abruptly pushed the voices away from his immediate hearing before starting to change out of his dusty traveling clothes. He still had to prepare to attend dinner, and he couldn't do so looking as he did, pestering spirits or not.

*Legolas?* The childish voice questioned shyly, which caused him to frown in response. He didn't need this. Not now.

"I don't want you here." he growled, trying to mentally push her from his mind. It didn't seem to work, but then again, it never did. His growing irritation caused him to jerk the tunic lacings a bit too forcefully, nearly snapping the leather ties. "I wish you to go away."

*No!* He could almost see her stomp her foot down in impatience.

He finally pulled off the tunic and threw it onto the floor. "You and your ilk are part of the evil that Master Saeldis warned me about for so long. You are the reason why I was always getting into trouble growing up! Now I'm stuck here in this strange realm, no doubt also a fault of yours! My body and mind have already been damaged enough! What more do you want? To steal my spirit as well?"

*We are not evil!* She shouted angrily, the pressure of which causing his head to pound in reaction. *You don't know what's happened!*

"I don't want to know! Just go away!" He shouted back at her, too frustrated, and admittedly too frightened, to listen any longer. He had to get her to leave before she did him any harm, or worse, brought more of her kind to torment him. How many before it became too much and he was left alone and drifting in a body no longer his own? How long before they completely took over his mind? They were already starting to creep in and take control. He also feared that if any found out she or any of the others were here, they would truly think him mad, and the consequences of that were unthinkable.

He spun around angrily, and upon seeing the doll staring up at him on the bed with its sad black eyes, snatched it up and hurled it forcefully against the door. It hit with a dull thud before sliding to the floor in a small, pitiful heap. Immediately he felt the elfling spirit retreat into the back of his mind and a feeling of relief washed over him. Yet the feeling was short lived for at the same time he heard a hesitant knocking coming from the door, a sound which caused him to jump back in surprise.

Running a now shaking hand along his tightly bound hair, he nervously walked to the door, wondering how loud his enraged shout had been. Composing his features into a neutral expression he pulled it open, at the same time sliding the offending toy into the corner with his foot.

Standing before him was a pair of identical looking elves. One stood erect in front of the door while the other leaned against the doorjamb, arms crossed over his chest. They wore matching midnight blue and silvery gray tunics embroidered in fine detail. Grey breeches were worn underneath, with soft black boots that extended just over the knee. Long, ebony hair fell loose down both their backs, framing identical faces of an equally comely appearance. They stood slightly taller than Legolas, and were broader through the shoulders, which could be taken as a sign of their human heritage. While identical in appearance they seemed, if one looked hard enough slight differences could be found. Yet it wasn't a difference so much in their looks as in the way they carried themselves. One's posture seemed a little more open than the other, one's stance a little wider, one's smile slightly broader.

"I hope you weren't referring to us?" The one leaning against the jamb commented before pushing himself up to stand straight next to his brother and peering into the room. "Although I don't see anyone else in here."

"I am Elladan," the second elf stated as the other left off, "and this my brother Elrohir. We've come to escort you to supper. Although if you aren't hungry, or have decided to dine alone..."

The dark elves smiled welcomingly, waiting for a response. They had been eager to meet this fair prince of Mirkwood, though they knew very little about him. Having never traveled to the great forested kingdom, they were very much interested in the stories he might have to tell of his home and in sharing battle tales with each other. While the odd shout and subsequent thump had caught them a touch off-guard, they covered it easily.

Legolas could only stare at the two briefly in shock. He knew them to be the sons of Lord Elrond - how many other elven twins could there be - but was startled to see them at his door.

*And why should I be surprised,* he thought to himself, trying to come up with a sensible reply. *They live here after all.*

"I apologize." He bowed slightly in respect. "There was...a...rat." He flinched slightly, knowing how bad that sounded after the fact. The House of Elrond probably never saw rats, and he had more than likely just insulted his hosts!

Unable to think of a quick way to rectify the situation, he opted for the easy way out. "If you will excuse me I need to finish changing. I will be ready in a moment."

He swiftly closed the door and rummaged through the wardrobe to find something appropriate to wear. A green and gold tunic with a white undershirt caught his eye. Quickly he stripped off his shirt stained from traveling and pulled on the clean garments, effectively hiding various scars that covered his back and right arm from sight. They were quite old, but he had long since decided the fewer people knew about his disfigurement, the safer he would be. While the thought was not totally his own, it didn't matter. They had all agreed the same thing.

The brothers stood outside the closed door, a bit startled by the prince's abruptness and strange excuse. While rats were a possibility, they were very few and only found in the dark depths of the storerooms. The cats tended to keep them all away.

Elladan looked over at his brother, lifting a single dark brow in a gesture reminiscent of his father. "Rats?"

Elrohir shrugged his shoulders before settling back against the wall beside the door to wait.

"Perhaps he is just shy," Elladan commented. He tried to imagine what it would be like to be alone in a strange realm, and found it impossible. He always had his brother there beside him to keep him company.

"Perhaps." Elrohir said with a small, mischievous grin. "You probably just scared him."

"Me?" Elladan looked indignant.

"Of course. Your face would be enough to scare anyone. Besides, your ears are lopsided."

Elladan's hand rose briefly towards the offending appendages before he suddenly dropped it with a grin of his own. "Need I remind you, dear brother, that we look alike. My ears are the same as yours."

"That's not what Fellia said."

Elladan straightened up, the look on his face changing into one of both eagerness and anxiety. "What did she say?"

"Only that -" He stopped as he heard the door open and turned. Legolas stood there, properly dressed and waiting. The nervousness seemed to have abated, leaving a cool, assured elf in its wake.

"Only that even identical twins have their differences." He finished with a wink, and then gestured down the hall with a slight bow. "Shall we go?"


Review Responses:

Crookis: Yeah! I think I finally figured out who the pair will be! Should I say? Or should I wait? Hmmm..... (Hint: It was one of your suggestions...)
So you write too? What do you write?

grimlock: Wow. I like wow. I'm really glad you're enjoying the story so far. I hope I didn't break too much of the suspense with this chapter. There's more to come! Honest!

Sivan: You're spoiling me! I'm starting to look forward to your reviews. I only hope I don't disappoint!