How...Unfortunate

Thranduil waved his hand away elegantly, sending the guard to grab the Dwarf and haul him back to the cells. This was getting quite tedious if he was being honest, and he did not like tedious things. Furthermore, he knew that they were not telling him everything. Despite knowing that, he simply did not know what to make of these tales. It was all the same, none of them knew of that boy, well...except for that fatter dwarf, who seemed to shift slightly when he was being questioned. Clearly, he knew the boy, but even still, despite being whipped into submission, not a word of him passed through the damned creature’s lips. It was annoying, and while the fatter dwarf’s discomfort was not much, it was enough to allow Thranduil to know that they had, in fact, known of the boy before they entered the dungeons. For how long he did not know, but he knew well enough the Dwarven company was not going to say anything more on the subject. Even that Dwarven prince who costumed himself as king did not say a word. While Thranduil did not like the dwarves by any stretch of the means, their loyalty to each other and to shutting themselves up was rather commendable. He would commend it more if it did not get in the way of his obtaining the information he desired.  

His face showed a slight frown as the last dwarf was taken away. He had questioned all of them, and yet still, there was nothing more than what he had already known in the first place. This was quite annoying to him, and he knew that more information, unfortunately, would have to wait until the boy was more forthcoming but given the extent of what Thranduil had seen from him...He doubted that he would. His son was good at many things and Thranduil normally trusted information gathering to him, as he was quite good at it, but given the nature of the boy...and what Thranduil had seen from him...He did not think his son's ability was able to quite reach that extent. Perhaps Legolas would manage to get some small tid bits of information, but barring what was already quite obvious, Thranduil was not entirely certain more would come forth. He already suspected that the boy had given them more information that he wanted them to know, rather than information that they found out despite the boy’s desire not to let them know. The only time he panicked was with that marking on his arm. Thranduil had to admit, he was somewhat concerned with it. For a person to dare mark another in such a gruesome way, it did not bode well for anyone else. Not to mention, Thranduil had his own suspicions that it was far worse than just a simple brand. 

Still, he was hoping that they could get something more, something ripped from either the dwarves, or the boy, or just something. While Thranduil was not fond of the picture that was being painted, he preferred any picture to be painted rather than no picture at all. It was obvious enough that the other came from some sort of...well off family, or a family of some origins of note, the mannerisms and speech patterns made that obvious. As for some of the other things though, it left Thranduil circling for a loop. Something clearly had happened, perhaps before, maybe after he had joined the Dwarven company, but it was certain that something had in fact happened, and while he was unsure which it was, he did not necessarily need to know. It was noticeably clear that something horrific had altered the boy's chemistry. He did not know where to even begin with how he was going to help him. One thing was certain: he held no love for the Dwarves, if anything, his animosity was refreshing.  

He may not be entirely human, that was obvious enough, but not defending the Dwarves was something Thranduil would definitely get behind no matter whom it was-to an extent. He was not sure how much the boy knew of their rather tense alliance with the Dwarves, that had then been destroyed by their greed, but Thranduil knew that he was aware that the two groups did not get along. Legolas’ information of what the boy had spat at Thorin Oakenshield was indications of that. 

His joy at finding an ally in his hatred of dwarven scum aside, Thranduil did not know what further to do. He had questioned the Dwarves, who had remained steadfastly silent to his unending annoyance, and it was clear that a select few did not like the boy, including that Thorin Oakenshield, though Thranduil supposed that should be expected given how annoyed the Dwarf is with anything that does not go his way. It had been obvious enough from the moment that he had met with the dwarf-child, and the grudge that he would not sacrifice his people to win a pointless war is yet again something that shows Thranduil that the Dwarf is not yet ready to rule. It would destroy him, in many ways. Still, despite the obvious dislike some of the dwarves held for the boy, none of it was downright hostile (barring Thorin, but again the boy had questioned and challenged the dwarven idiot’s capability and character before being brought to him). 

As for this boy, Thranduil still had to contemplate what to be done with him. He was not entirely sure keeping him in Mirkwood was a good decision. Normally, he would, but in this situation, he doubted that any good would come of it. Not until they figured out who exactly he belonged to, and if anyone would be coming to find him. He likely had family elsewhere to return to in some capacity. If he did not, then Thranduil would be more than willing to keep him. Beyond just being interesting, there was clearly something about the boy that kept his attention. There was a secret he was holding, though what had eluded him, the King also knew that anyone who encountered such an ugly person willing to permanently marr a child was someone who needed to divulge that information. Still, if he had family that he wished to return to that was looking for him, Thranduil would be remiss to keep him from them. 

Then again, at the same time, he was not entirely sure if he was ready to allow the boy to just...leave. There was something about him that made Thranduil want to keep him within the halls of the palace and not allow his departure. Even beyond just wanting to know who marked the other. Such thoughts, however, were only dangerous, and Thranduil knew better than to demand that of a half human. He would present the opportunity to leave, though something inside of Thranduil made him think that the other would not take it. However, this opportunity would only be served after Thranduil was reassured that he was at least in good condition. 

Those wounds on the boy unsettled him. There were so many, and it was painfully obvious that whatever had caused it was giving the boy pain. The scars that littered his torso concerned Thranduil greatly. He had no reason to take so much to a half human that was not of his kin even, but a part of him felt concern, deep concern, over the wellbeing of this individual. He was slightly impatient to speak to Legolas and get his son's own insights on the boy. From what his son had already told him, little though it was, he was quite an obedient and timid character, at least, towards him. It was obvious that depiction carried towards Thranduil as well. He wondered how much the boy would obey him, it was clear that he held some sort of...tendency to obey authority, but he was concerned at the same time. Such things could end quite badly for anyone, especially a hybrid mix. There was an intelligence and cunning behind those grey eyes, but Thranduil was not sure if that would manage to eclipse his obedient nature. 

"My Lord," Thranduil leaned back in his throne, tearing himself from the inner workings of his mind in order to begin staring down at the guard, who was currently on bended knee towards him. 

"What is it?" He questioned, his voice emotionless, though a sense of impatience tinged it. 

"It is about the...newcomer you asked to have assessed by a healer." Thranduil sat a bit straighter at that, leaning forwards slightly. 

"What of him?" He asked, eager to get as much information as possible. It was the best way to ready onesself for anything, after all. He did not think the boy was dangerous by any means, but whoever had marked the boy...now that was someone to be wary of. 

"He seems to have a strange...aura on him." The guard admitted slowly, his voice nervous and his stance stiffening as Thranduil’s gaze turned darker, his aura lashing dangerously. The King did not like the sound of what the guard was telling him at all. 

"What does that mean?" Thranduil questioned, his own eyes flaring darkly. 

"Around the wounds, whatever caused them, holds someone else's aura, it is not of his own. It is...darker, and far more malicious." Thranduil stood abruptly. 

"Take me to him, immediately." The Guard scrambled up to obey his King...nervousness still rife in his features. Thranduil almost wanted to clock the Elf behind the ears. Allowing one’s emotions to be so easily displayed...it was almost shameful of an Elf in his employ for as long as this guard had been. 

*** 

Draco felt almost paralyzed to the bed he was on. It was not a good thing, and yet he could not stop his fear and anxiety from skyrocketing. The Healer had not been too harsh, at least not at first. He had gently coaxed Draco into lying on the bed, and gently removed the cloak, handing it to the Prince (of all things) before assessing the wounds and bruises surrounding his arms and torso. He felt his breathing pick up as Rimedur had sighed deeply. He knew what it meant when nurses did that, and so he knew fully well that he was not going to enojy the next words out of the Healer’s mouth. "I am going to need to remove your trousers." Draco had panicked at that, immediately trying to escape, but it was needless, as the Prince had come to his side at once, pressing him harshly into the bed, aiding Rimedur as he reluctantly took the rest of Draco's clothes off. He could not stop the silent tears that shed from his eyes and trickled down his cheeks. He could barely breathe, and struggling was useless. He felt just as helpless and defenseless as he had...that other time...Shame and self-loathing quickly began to well up dangerously through his body. Rimedur seemed to be trying his damnedest to make things quick and fast, but Draco could not even notice such a thing, too terrified and almost listless. Rimedur finished his assessments as quickly as possible, turning to Legolas with an eye that told Legolas clearly enough to keep Draco down, as he rushed to the guard that they were to send to the King when the assessment was done. 

Whilst Rimedur spoke to the guard hastily, and silently, Legolas found himself stroking the half human's hair, trying to calm him down. Dull gray eyes stared emptily at the ceiling, and Legolas felt a part of his heart restricted with worry and anxiety. Had he done something to permanently break the being? He was not sure, and he doubted Father would be happy should he know Legolas had done this, but it had been at the command of a professional Healer, which had Legolas calming himself, gently stroking the boy's brow, and trying to bring him back to the present, though it was beginning to get more and more difficult. If anything, he seemed to have gone numb. It was not a good thing and drew dark comparisons that Legolas did not want to think off. 

Moments later he heard fast but light footfalls echoing through the hall and stiffened himself slightly. He would recognize his father's steps anywhere. The harder clink of the Guard's steps was notable after his own father's. He had known Rimedur would be forced to get his father, but he had thought that would happen...after they had fixed the boy. Why was it that his father had been seen almost immediately? He glanced towards Rimedur, his blue eyes questioning, but the Healer did not spare him a glance. "We need to try and get it out, quickly, before I can do anything more." Rimedur said slowly, muttering, to his father. Legolas narrowed his eyes but did not say anything more as Thranduil was handed Aethalas quickly by the Healer. "My Lord, please," Thranduil sighed, but pressed the Aethalas against the heart of the half Human, chanting softly. He felt the boy shake and whimper, tears still streaming quite consistently down his face. Legolas felt as what Rimedur had sensed and hastened to get his father finally seemed to lift from the half human. From what Legolas managed to gather, the Half Human clearly felt it as wall. His breathing got easier, but just slightly, and his chest had positively heaved as his Father seemed to pull whatever it was that had caused Rimedur to worry from him, and the Aethalas leaves practically wilted and turned mahogany brown. Legolas felt his eyes widen in shock, and some great worry. 

"Rimedur, continue binding the open wounds, and place the creams on all of the bruising." Thranduil stated clearly, gathering the withered Aethalas leaves and pressing them into Rimedur's hands to rid himself of them. "I have taken whatever aura it was and called it out of him, but I am not sure what it was, still." Legolas glanced back down at the still numb boy. "Hurry, and do his legs and hips first, allow him to get his bottoms back on, it is making him anxious and... I do not think it wise to extend this farther than necessary." Thranduil turned his eyes onto his son. "Legolas, we shall have to speak together later." Legolas inhaled sharply. He bowed his head towards his father, accepting. "See to me after dinner...Rimedur, continue, ask Legolas if you need anything further." 

"Thank you, Your Majesty." Rimedur stated respectfully. Thranduil stared him down. 

"Well, get on it." He commanded, leaving Rimedur hastily rushing around the infirmary to get the items he needed to aid in the wounds. Thranduil gazed once more at his son. He sighed, but did not say anything more on the topic, turning on his heel and exiting the infirmary. Legolas tried to ignore the curling dread through his stomach at what his father could wish from him. He was worried about what he could have done to potentially angry at him. He knew it was most likely not anything he did, it was something else, but he could not help but be a bit...anxious. His father’s temper was practically legendary after all. 

"My Prince, please, help hold him down, once again." He said softly. Legolas gave the Healer a small smile and pressed the boy once more into the bed. He felt dread curving through his head, but he could not allow that to distract him.  

Rimedur worked his magic as quickly as he could...literally. Legolas would try and help, but he was nothing close to a Healer. He knew the basics, and he knew how to use Aethalas if needed for major injuries, but he was not old enough to know, as his father did, how to extract dark magic from wounds. It was dangerous work, and his father refused to let him learn such things, yet. He hoped soon enough he would be allowed to learn, though he did not doubt that his father would wish to prolong the inevitable as long as possible. He was entrusted with many things, but Thranduil was wary of magic, particularly Legolas wielding it, and always had been. It was magic, in the end, that had killed his mother. No matter how wonderful, his father was not likely to ever trust it again fully. Aethalas was most commonly used by the royal line of elves since they had the most potent magic to place within the healing properties. If one not of royal blood attempted to use the Aethalas plant, it did not usually work. Legolas was not entirely sure why that was, but if one did not have a royal lineage, it would be useless to them. He wished his father would allow him to...to learn, but he knew the folly of trying to press something when it had already been made quite clear to him. Thranduil was not the kindest in terms of executing his orders, at times. He was extremely strict. Legolas had learned long ago to avoid questioning his father’s decisions. They were typically best in the first place, no matter Legolas’ own feelings on the matter. 

The most Legolas was able to do, given his lack of training, was try and keep the human creature coherent, but even that was a losing battle. Legolas could tell that he was nigh unresponsive. Despite Rimedur's attempts to work swiftly, as their King had ordered, it took time. Legolas was not sure what it was that had cursed the boy, but it clearly held some deep weight...Perhaps that was what his father wished to speak about, although if that was the case, Legolas was not entirely sure that he wanted to have that conversation. Whatever curse it was that held within the other's body, whatever lingering magic was twisting through him, it had completely wilted the Aethalas. Legolas may not be an expert, but he was fairly certain that was not exactly a common phenomenon. Nor was it something to be glossed over, but Legolas knew that his father was bound to have more knowledge of that than he did. 

It was not long before, though still far too long in Legolas' opinion, Rimedur finally allowed the boy's bottoms to be placed back on. Legolas was relieved. It was hard enough seeing how distraught that it made the other, and he knew that there was a far more traumatizing reason than just being shy. It was imperative, of course he knew that, but at the same time his heart merely shattered when looking upon the blank, glossed over eyes that stared at the ceiling entirely unseeing. It was difficult, he knew that it was likely difficult for Rimedur as well, and he would not deny that being a healer was complicated when one had to give such orders, but he was still grateful for Rimedur's confident assurance. The other did not mention anything, merely continued to work on his torso having finally finished his lower body. He knew, given the tenseness of the Elf's jaw, that Rimedur was having trouble compartmentalizing. It was always more difficult, or so Rimedur told him, on the youth. Legolas knew that many mortal healers had the worst go of it, since they had so many more children. Elves, while they did have children at times, did not have many. Mortals had so many more spawn than elves did, and Legolas remembered thinking that it had to be extremely difficult for them. Rimedur’s own hatred of having to heal wounds on the youth had been told Legolas this the first time that he had gotten hurt and Rimedur was forced to heal him. He was the youngest of their people, after all. 

The boy remained entirely unseeing, and still, throughout most of the rest of the binding and wrapping. Rimedur was positively horrified by the level of bruises that curved about his figure. They were dark, fresh most notably, and deep. Legolas himself was having trouble concentrating, getting distracted by the stillness of the body, as he allowed the hands to roam his skin without much more complaint. Legolas likely would not even need to keep holding him down, he would bet that if he allowed the other up, he would merely stay stationary, but Legolas knew better than to release the other without Rimedur's expressed command. There were reasons for everything, after all. 

It was not until Rimedur's fingers brushed that garish marking on the boy's forearm that he seemed to come back to himself. He jolted so hard Legolas temporarily lost his grip on his body and had to quickly recover it. He stared at Rimedur trying to pull his arm away, but to near no avail. "I am not going to do anything to you," Rimedur whispered softly, trying to calm the human creature, but it was no use. He shook his head, continuing to try and yank his arm from Rimedur, pleading in soft tones 'do not touch it' various please sprinkled along with it. Rimedur ignored the other, of course he did, and forced his arm straight, pinning it to the bed as he gently traced the skin, ensuring there was nothing left over from...whatever it was that had caused the Aethalas to turn brown. Rimedur could sense some sort of magical trace, but it was entwined in the skin, and Rimedur knew for sure, barring skinning his arm, there was no way to erase it, and there was no certainty that it would even work either. Rimedur had not truly made contact with this form of magic. 

Legolas noticed, though, that the longer Rimedur touched the marking the more anxious and desperate the human creature seemed to be to get him away from it. Legolas finally pressed upon Rimedur's arm, shaking his head slightly. The boy was going to work himself to a panic if he continued, and since he knew that Rimedur had concluded all he needed, the other did not need to continue to touch him. Rimedur sighed but allowed the other's arm free. The Human Creature immediately drew his arm to his chest, the forearm pressing against his torso as if hiding it from them. His body was trembling, riddled with a sort of anxiety. 

"Well, my Prince, I have finished what I can for him." He said softly, turning to grab the boy's cloak that Thranduil had granted him. Rimedur gave it to him, and Legolas swiftly released him. The boy's trembling fingers placed the cloak around his body, fisting the fabric closed around the front. Legolas watched on as he pressed his body harshly against the head of the bed, his body still trembling. It was...painful to watch. 

"Rimedur, please watch over him, I must speak with my father." Legolas said gently.  

*** 

"Those Dwarves," Thranduil began, leaving Legolas to shiver slightly. He knew that his father was going to feel some type of way after he had informed him of what was going on, but this was already going in a rather bad direction. It was never good when his father brought up Dwarves first before anything else. Especially after Legolas had given him something else to talk about. He did not quite remember the situation that had caused his father to hate them, hell, he had not even been born yet, but he did know that they had not upheld their end of a bargain, and as a result it had changed their relations for decades to come, and had signaled the end of Durin's reign under the mountain. After all, why should his father honor a pact with the Dwarves that would slaughter a great ton of his kin if the Dwarves could not even be bothered to uphold a harmless pact that they had made with them? He did not know the specifics, of course, considering he had not been born, but...Elves held grudges, and they held them quite a long while. Not long for Elves, but long for mortals he knew. Especially considering the grudge could last several lifetimes.  

"What about them?" Legolas ventured carefully. He had to be cautious, as he knew should he say the wrong thing his father was liable to rending the heads of those Dwarves. It was not something that he necessarily cared about, persay, but he also knew it could antagonize already tense relations. They had caught him in a decent mood, for now, but that was swiftly waning, and Legolas had a feeling it would dwindle further the longer that the half mortal was with them, though he was not sure what exactly the connection that he had with the Dwarves was, he knew that his Father had his own thoughts regarding the matter. It did not matter, his Father would figure it out well enough soon enough, but for now they were left with nothing but shadows and half of a picture that painted something rather bleak. 

"They know something, at least a few of them do, that they are unwilling to share, though...I have to say in this situation...I do not necessarily think that they are the main culprit." Legolas felt his body still, swallowing a response down, knowing that it would do little good to the current situation. It was not as though he necessarily disagreed anyways. In fact, Legolas had come to that conclusion not a few hours earlier, though he had hoped himself to be wrong. I am still uncertain how the boy fell into their clutches, but it is clear he did not want to, that much I can tell. Though how long he was with them for, I cannot quite ascertain." Thranduil turned to face his son, arms at his sides, staring down at him regally. "Whoever it is that he was with before the Dwarves...that would likely be the main culprit, both of his current condition, and of that...awful mark." 

"You noticed that..." Legolas stated, as it was not a question. It would have been difficult not to notice. The mark was...jarring to see on someone so young. It was akin to a curse of sorts, though Legolas was unable to quite pin down what exactly it was, the nature of the marking itself would have been incredibly painful. That much was quite clear, and it was dark...very dark magic. Furthermore, Thranduil had been the one to remove the magic tainting it, or at least most of the magic that tainted it. Legolas jus that not been sure if he had noticed that it was still there. Still, he should never have underestimated his father...Thranduil saw almost everything at all times. "Whoever it is that branded him is not to be underestimated." He said, though unnecessarily. "Father, I worry for him." Legolas admitted the words quietly, almost nervously. He did not know how he would react to Legolas showing such...affinity towards someone, particularly someone like the boy...broken and damaged as he was. 

"I saw," His father deadpanned. Legolas nervously waited for his father to continue. That could not be all, could it? Thranduil sighed soon afterwards. "The boy has been hurt...in ways unimaginable," There was a haunting look that coursed through his father's eyes at the statement. Flaring darkly, Legolas felt himself shift slightly with nerves. This was going slightly downhill faster than he would hope. "It was not those Dwarves, as much as they are depraved, they are not that cruel, I will give them that much." Legolas felt something roll in his stomach. Father has come to the same thoughts that I have, and I would have hoped that I was wrong. However, it was no coincidence that they had produced the same conclusion, and he would bet that Rimedur felt the same as well. It made him feel positively ill at the thought that someone could be so cruel to such a young half mortal. It was sickening. 

"Who is it you believe it to be then?" Thranduil laid a judging eye on his son, raising a brow. 

"Take a guess, my son, what creature is predisposed to such cruelty, and unable to curb themselves of their horrific desires more often than not?" Legolas muttered the word under his breath. 

"Men," Legolas turned back towards his Father. "The nearest men settlement is on the other side of the forest that he was in, however, and even then, a mere mortal man could not have possibly made that marking." 

"No, they could not, which is why I am concerned. There are very few that have the power to make such a marking, and even less willing to do so." 

"That evil has been sleeping," Legolas countered, feeling something overwhelming hit his chest out of nowhere. 

"Yes, sleeping, but who is to say that it does not wake every once in a while. We do not keep such a close eye, after all, and even if we were to want to, such things are impossible." Thranduil said gently, turning his head away to look in the distance...to that cursed place. "As much as I do not want to say otherwise, there are not many that could have created such a mark." 

"What do you want to do?" Legolas questioned. 

"Leave him here for a time, once he is somewhat recovered...we will send him to Elrond. He will know better exactly what it is that created such a vile mark." Thraduil paused, turning back to his son. “By that, take care that he is ready to leave soon. Winter is approaching, I would hate for you to have to stay with the half elf for too long.”  

"Father..." 

"There is no use worrying about a potential dark sorcerer without further knowledge." Thranduil stated, his voice harsh leaving Legolas to flinch slightly at the reproach. "Not only that, but you will be going with him. He trusts you, though to what extent I am not sure...but he obeys you well enough." Legolas felt another discomforting feeling curve around his heart at his father's words, but once again he was unable to quite refute them.  

Legolas returned to the boy, after his father dismissed him, contemplating the things that he and his father had spoken. He wanted to speak with Rimedur, to be sure, to be certain that he was not thinking things up, imagining things. Though, a large part of him hoped that he was. He did not know what to think if what he feared happened. It would be painful to hear, for sure, but Legolas could not help but want confirmation. Anything to stop the guesswork. It was difficult to think of, and Legolas was not sure he wanted to continue it. The healer was absent from the room when Legolas returned, though the guard stayed their vigil outside the door, which made sense as to why the boy did not try and escape. He was not sure if the other would even bother trying to attempt it even without the guard, but it was nice to be certain. 

The boy was still curled up against the headboard, his arm tucked against his chest, the other hand clenching his robes closed tightly. Legolas could practically see the whites of his knuckles from how tightly he was holding the fabric closed. He wished they could get him a proper tunic, but it would have to be fitted first. Briefly he considered lending one of his own, but he was not sure how his Father would take that, and much less the other people. It was a quite common first courting gesture among the noble elves and Legolas did not want to give his people hope that he had chosen someone if he had not. His Father, would not approve either, even if Legolas wanted to court the boy. Not when it was so obvious that he was not well. 

"I am sorry about Rimedur, and I know the distress that must have caused you, but it was for the best...we needed to at least try and heal you." The boy nodded once, not daring to look at Legolas, though he had not even managed such a thing when he had thought he was just a guard, or captain of a guard. Now, the boy knew he was a prince, and this behavior was not changing soon with that knowledge. It was a shame, the other had such lovely eyes. "I understand this may be a bit difficult for you, but we are trying to help you, nothing more. When you are well enough, my Father has called for you to be escorted to Lord Elrond, a master of healing arts." The boy nodded once again, accepting his fate. Legolas inwardly sighed. He doubted that he would get anything more, especially not after what had just occurred. "What is your name?" Legolas questioned. 

"Draconis Malfoy," The words were soft and careful. Legolas could not even remember if his father had asked them before, or if he had. After everything that had happened, so much in so little time, he would not be surprised if he had asked the words before and they had been answered, even. Still, it could not hurt to ask more than once, and he did not want to mistake the other's name. 

"Draconis...it is an interesting name." The boy flinched slightly but nodded once more. Legolas was getting annoyed with the nonverbal response. It was frustrating, but he also knew that he was unlikely to get anything more from the boy, and it was lucky that he was even getting this much when he thought about it. He did not doubt that it had to do with the fact that he was a royal, and therefore the boy felt the need to appease him...particularly if...if...Legolas turned his thoughts from such horrible things and continued to try and pry conversation. "I would really appreciate it if you spoke to me, rather than giving me mere nods." 

"Yes, my lord," The words were hushed, soft, and delicate. Legolas could hardly help the exhale that he released in frustration. He was spending far too much time with the Twins the last time he was in Imladris. The words...well they were as bad as the nonverbal nod, and Legolas almost wished he could take the command away, but he did not think it a clever idea. For now, he would just have to bear with it. It was easy, something he knew how to do often. Elves were masters at such things, of course, and even young ones like himself knew how to shield their emotions quite well. Elrond's Twins were unique exceptions. He knew many Elves felt them too human for their tastes. 

"Dinner will be served soon, you are not required in the hall. I shall have Rimedur bring something back for you at his behest. I am not sure what your diet should be, but it is nothing heavy, and Elvish food tends to be quite...fulfilling. I do not wish to accidentally over feed you, furthermore, my Father has not stated you are required at the feast; therefore I do not believe it wise to entertain his emotions." The boy merely gave a soft yes lord once again. Legolas gave up attempting conversation. Humming, he turned on his heel and left, going to get a book. If he could not talk, the boy was more interested in reading? It was obvious that he could not speak much elvish, although he knew enough which was surprising as it were, he also did not want to test his luck. Their library had some, though few, books written in the common tongue. 

He had to at least attempt to get the boy to like him before they left for Elrond. He knew the boy had gone through much, and it was clear he was terrified of him, and though he obeyed Legolas, Legolas was not sure he wanted some sort of obedient puppet when he went to Elrond. He knew how the Lord thought of his father's general...temperament already, and he did not really want to worsen it further, even if it was not his father's fault this time.