Chapter Text
The corridors winding beneath the Elvenking’s castle were dry and furnished with lights, and clean. That is where the comfort ended, and the shadows which fell into the rounded corners of the walls felt darker than they truly were as Legolas walked onwards to the room of the prisoner.
It was a long walk, and gave Legolas time to think, though he wished sometimes to banish away some of the thoughts which came to him at this time. His soft-soled shoes padded along the dirt floor silently, and he felt grounded by the sensation in his body, but his mind fluttered, longing to ascend to some high place to more properly contemplate his complicated emotions.
He trailed soft fingertips against the wall as he walked. The Greenwood had not ever had a guest like this- or a prisoner such as this one, for that matter. At times, the elves would offer veterinary services to some forest creature which had been wronged, especially in more recent days when the name Mirkwood was used for the realm and there was always some attack by the servants of the enemy to contend with.
Now, it was Legolas’s job to provide safe and secure harbor for one who was not of the enemy, but also not of the free peoples of the earth. Legolas depended on his body to bring him, step by step, down the long hallway, as he barely saw what was before his eyes even despite the light. His thoughts obstructed his view now. Not of the animal world, and not of the world of men or dwarves or even that of orcs, all of whom the elves had had experience with. This creature was one different, outside the bounds of what was known. One whose story had been told to Legolas years ago by Mithrandir, who had been told by one of a secretive race of Halflings a tale of dragonfire and exploration of the cracks of the earth.
Despite the warmth of the tunnels, Legolas shivered and the back of his fine neck prickled with understanding. The cracks of the earth were a place of knocks and echoes, and the things that lived there were known to him only in story or song. So it was that the prison cells of Mirkwood now seemed to house a fairy tale, something alien and Legolas felt how unnatural it was. One who would not die, uncannily, even when release would have been most merciful. The Ranger Aragorn had informed him of this unnatural way, explaining that even after traversing mountainous terrain for days, the creature Gollum had refused food and water on the basis that he would not accept anything from “the Nassty man”. Though, the creature was capricious and at times would cooperate with any imposition in a most uncanny way. Through snow, the creature refused clothing, and yet stayed whole and did not develop frostbite despite seeming to suffer horribly. And during the night, the creature would speak in riddles of the sights it had seen, great and terrible, and the task before it to retrieve the Precious, and its eyes would shine like a Palantir with the light of an accursed moon. At other times, the Ranger had informed the Elven Prince, the creature seemed like nothing more than a halfling beggar, wretched but ordinary, and seemed to forget everything but the weariness of the road and the hunger of his stomach.
Legolas pushed open the door of the external chamber and nodded to the guard, cold clarity in the water of his spine. Today he must speak to the prisoner, not just to the guard, who nodded back to him and stood to take his post outside the door. The guard elf did not truly understand his own task and yet followed through with military obedience. The Prince watched his back as he left, and turned back to the blank door which housed the prisoner only when he heard the lock click. Legolas knew that there was something terribly wrong with his prisoner, and yet his task was laid before him, to draw on all his stores of intelligence and fortitude, from places deep and vulnerable. He steeled himself, and pushed open the door to the prisoner’s cell- and none of his preparations gave him the fortitude to school his expression when he gazed upon the sight within.
Water, Precious, sweet and cold,
Take our stink and wash the mold!
Splashing, wishing, for a feast,
Fishes, critters, some small beast!
If we hads it, we would eats,
Bones and gristle, eyeballs, grease!
The prisoner fell into a fit of cackling laughter where it lay in the water-basin, which was full of murky water. Gollum held one trout in each hand, both in varying states of desecration. Spilled guts and fish blood mixed with water and the packed earth on the floor of the cell, giving off a smell of river and mildew which immediately filled Legolas’s lungs. He only realized he was standing in the door with his mouth open when the prisoner gave a shriek.
“ACH! Precious! Nassty elf, wants to take our fishes! Never, never, we will never gives it over, fishes are ours, precious!” And immediately, the prisoner swallowed both fish and bared his few teeth at the Prince. The relative size of the teeth, despite their condition and number, were still enough to make Legolas want to turn around and shut the door quickly behind himself. Instead, he schooled himself. It was his job to communicate with his prisoner, and he must have the upper hand, even while he figured out a new tactic in record time.
“I do not want your fish, Sméagol. In fact, I would give you more, if you wished it. You have said you are famished, as any would be after such a long journey, and we are willing to supply you with whichever food you will eat. I am simply here to speak with you, and to tell you what I may about why you are here, and to make you comfortable.”
Legolas did not mention that he was there to learn more about the creature as well, finding it best to frame his request in the form of an offer. He would learn from the questions asked, if any, much of what he needed to know about the possessed creature.
Gollum looked at Legolas with an expression like he’d tasted something bad, his face very wrinkled. He licked the fishgrease off his lips and seemed to consider, splashing idly in his bath. Legolas noted the creature’s well-formed musculature around the shoulders and thighs, which he could see. It had large, flat feet which bore sparse hairs, more than what fell thinly from the crown of his head. All of these hairs, despite their sparseness, seemed delicate and strong- a curious effect, and Legolas could not help taking in the rude sight before him with an eye used to appraising nature and art.
“Hssss….. doesn’t trust it, precious, no, we don’t. Never trust elves, Precious, tricksy things, they are. Ach! Speaks nice, maybe, precious, but locks us up! Gives fish, yes, but hurtssss us, precious, with burning ropes! Kills us, hurts us, pretends it doesn’t, gollum!” Came the choking noise from back of the creature’s throat.
“Yes, Sméagol, we did use force against you, but only that which we thought was necessary. We regret that you did not cooperate with us more- you must understand, you are a person of interest to us in Mirkwood due to your recent detainment in the land of the Shadow, and your dealings with that which you call the Precious. If you can help us in our inquiries, we will be of eternal gratitude to you- but otherwise, we must still detain you. Would that every creature be free to do as they wish, but the world is darkening every day and we must take care.” Legolas tried to explain, knowing by the creature’s glazed expression that his words fell on deaf ears. Sméagol was humming and hissing to himself again, splashing in the water.
The creature then got out of the water, dripping copiously all over the floor and muttering.
“Shouldn’t speak of it, shouldn’t speak of it.” Then he seemed to see the water once more.
“Here to help? Hah! Takes it then, it should take the water away, dirty and soiled, and bring more fish!” Sméagol pointed at the water, a dare.
Glinting crystal blue was a goading lure to Legolas, who knew in himself he was mighty compared to this creature and had nothing to fear in combat or otherwise. The silly thing was ordering him about, and Legolas knew this game- all to do to prove his empathy with the creature was to humble himself, to take the water away, to show that such goading did not trouble him. He immediately took his key out of his pocket, knowing that he was locked in- the guard would come in if he heard noise, but the creature could not free himself from the double chambered room by any means within it. Legolas unlocked the cell within the room and walked in, bending to pick up the basin and making it seem as though he was not watching the creature as he stooped his graceful back. He blinked- and was pushed into the straw piled in the corner of the cell almost immediately, the creature atop him.
“Hssssssss”
The sound was at his face, a warm hissing from slitted nose and bared teeth, smelling of a riverbed. Legolas felt no pain- so he did not react, despite the pounding in his chest. His wisdom told him not to move. Instead, he simply opened his eyes, to look into hypnotic blue ones only inches away.
“Jumps on it, pretty elvessssss. Should we kills it, precious? Can’t eats it- hurts us. Touching it hurtssssss, precious, but we must, ach! Gollum!”
“Why did you push me over, Sméagol?” Legolas’s heart pounded in his throat, and he knew the creature could feel it and knew his restraint. He knew the creature was paused in a moment of contemplation as well.
“Sssss…… bent, elfs was. Foolish elvses, trusting always, and talking to Sméagol like a good little pet that has run away and only must come back, to be good again, my Precious.” A tear leaked out of the inner corner of the halfling’s eye, unacknowledged.
“I wish to trust you, Sméagol. I do not appreciate you jumping on me out of nowhere as you did.”
“Ach…… what will elvses do? Tie us? Beats us? Flames and stretchers, like in the dark place? Same here, maybe we has food here, Precious, but still we are locked away, my love.” His voice became wistful as he looked down at Legolas.
“No, we will not do any thing of the sort, Sméagol.” Legolas was not uncomfortable, he realized, laying down in the straw. The body on top of him was clammy but warm, and the smell of riverbed and fish only reminded him of summer and the beautiful ocean which called to him in his dreams. It was strange, but this felt alright for now, despite the ranger’s warnings. Sméagol was muttering to himself and licking his thumbs, but did not move from his straddle atop Legolas.
“Hsss…… lies, lies.” Then Sméagol paused and looked down at the elf with a slow, leering smile.
“Lays there beneath us, does not move. Rare, precious, why does it not move? We could squeeze it now.”
“I think you know it will not improve your situation.” Spoke Legolas, avoiding the question which he could not himself answer. He posed his own difficult question.
“Why do you remain on top of me like this, Sméagol?” The elf cocked one elegant brow, gesturing to the creature with a free hand.
“We thinks the elf wants to be friends with us, Precious, yes, elf thinks we would be a good friend.” Sméagol’s grin was uncanny and sharp, and Legolas felt a heavy sensation in the pit of his stomach.
“I do not know if we can be friends this moment, but I would not be opposed to learning more about your life, Sméagol, and maybe then we can speak of it again..” It was the wrong thing to say, Legolas knew immediately. Sméagol retreated from Legolas’s lap, hissing.
“Cold….. burns cold, elveses, always. Speaks nicely, lets us touch, then says we are not friends.” Sméagol looked at Legolas in a challenging way. The elf swallowed, feeling uncomfortable with the situation but not knowing quite why. Something in those piercing eyes told him what to say.
“We can be friends, Sméagol, if you promise to eat lots of fish and sleep much, and recover your strength after such a long ordeal.” Legolas felt the words come from his mouth, feeling the weight of them. Sméagol’s eyes narrowed and the creature gave a hiss.
“Friends… yess, Precious, we has a friend now, my love, bless us.” He walked to Legolas and pawed at the elf, who sat up, expressionless at first.
Legolas felt now that he understood some part of the nature of the creature Sméagol. Hardy and vile, perhaps, but he was also capricious- and disarming, with his rhymes and requests for friendship. Perhaps this was how his strange prisoner had survived so long, adapting to every circumstance with need. He had considered Sméagol’s overtures of friendship at once to be true, but something of the pressing demand felt to Legolas to be manipulation. Legolas turned his gaze to Sméagol, who was watching him keenly, but with expression open.
Friendship was not what Legolas had in mind towards Sméagol. Yet, he felt something different and perhaps stronger growing from his hindbrain. A fascination which had begun when he’d first heard the story, recounted secondhand by Mithrandir for him. Could this be the effect of the One on a living thing? For one to remain whole after possessing it for so long, as the Istar had learned during his interrogation of the creature. Legolas felt a creeping sensation, accompanied by a marked pity towards Sméagol, so long filled with a power he could not contain. Legolas felt he knew what to do. He knelt on the ground to look Sméagol in the eye.
“I shall do what I can to help you, Sméagol. Long, your struggle has been, but now it has come to an end. Here, you will be safe from all who would seek you. I swear it to you.” He spoke seriously, looking at the fallen halfling and trying to discern if his words registered. Sméagol was looking directly at Legolas- but his eyes did not settle on the elf’s face. Instead, his gaze was studious, and extended somewhere past the surface of Legolas’s serious expression. After what seemed like a moment of consideration, Sméagol’s expression screwed up and he gave a high, tearing cry. A fat tear rolled down one cheek, then another. Sméagol knelt, large feet curled beneath his rump, and sniffled, looking pitiably up at Legolas.
“Nice elfses, yes, helps poor Sméagol! Wretched, hungry, we are! Our poor handses, walked so long, then prodded on by nassty long-leggy Ranger, ach!” Then, rage flashed in Sméagol’s eyes but for an instant- and was quickly gone, replaced by a tearfully imploring smile. Sméagol approached Legolas and pawed again at his boot like a begging pup.
“But elf is kind, nice to usssss, Precious! We trusts it, good elf, and we will be good, very good, yes, Precious!” Sméagol knelt and looked up at the prince through eyelashes which were long, if sparse. Sméagol stroked the prince’s fine shoes with complete deference. Despite himself, Legolas felt a surge of emotion. The creature Sméagol now understood that he was finally safe, and his rehabilitation could begin. Such honest prostration before his shoes also made Legolas colour, he was not used to such enthusiastic, worshipful behavior. It was embarrassing but truly gratifying- and it was only the two of them alone together, so the elf allowed the behavior to continue.
Legolas wanted to reward Sméagol for this development. He would make sure the fallen halfling had everything necessary to ease his return to the side of the light. He would send for blankets and ensure the creature was well-fed, as many times a day as Sméagol would take food. Perhaps he would even try to encourage Sméagol to wear some fine clothing, or walk on two legs. Legolas felt a blooming sensation in his chest- that his kindness could reach the soul of one so long tortured! Legolas ignored all past thoughts of possible manipulation, and instead he believed with all his soul. The elf’s eyes prickled with unshed tears, yet he schooled his expression into one of authority.
“Very well, Sméagol. I will visit you again tomorrow, and we shall see what developments can be made upon your situation. Your good behaviour will be rewarded as often as possible. We will see together, if your life here cannot be made comfortable.” Legolas looked down at the twisted form and felt in the pit of his stomach a kind of hope which filled him up.
A pair of eyes followed Legolas to the door, where the elf removed a key from an inner pocket of his jacket. Legolas looked back and smiled at Sméagol, who mirrored the expression toothily. Legolas did not see the way Sméagol’s expression changed, the way his teeth might have looked suddenly sharper somehow, the way the watchful eyes flashed dark and green.