The battle with the Great Serpents of the North brought nothing but wrath and ruin for the wood elves. The aftermath is bitter – particularly so for their great King now laid low by the destruction of dragon flame. A short tale of Thranduil’s healing and how he and those around him adapt to his new, life-changing injuries. Thranduil-centric later on. Thranduil, Legolas, Tauriel, Gandalf, Radagast, Elrond and a host of OCs. Disclaimer: It's not mine!
Categories: Fiction Characters:
Elrond, Gandalf, Legolas, OFC, OMC, Radagast, Thranduil
Angst, AU, Hurt/Comfort
Tales of Mirkwood
September 11, 2016 Updated:
March 16, 2017
A/N: New story here solely based in Mirkwood. This will only be a short story – no more than 3 to 5 chapters. Hope you all enjoy.
* Legolas and his friends (Faervel, Aeglosson, Tauriel) are all very young here think 12 – 13 in human years.
1. Chapter 1 by KimicThranduilion
2. Chapter 2 by KimicThranduilion
3. Chapter 3 by KimicThranduilion
4. Chapter 4 by KimicThranduilion
5. Chapter 5 by KimicThranduilion
Chapter 1 by KimicThranduilion
Shapes that had been nothing more than dark, distant blurs and blobs for the better part of an hour were now finally starting to come into focus. More distinct now – shapes of elk, horses, banners and elves were being made clear with each step they took down the path. Legolas could barely contain his excitement and he watched from his perch with happy, expectant eyes. Even the threat of Lord Arahaelon's wrath when he found out that Legolas had disobeyed his orders to slip out of the palace could not dim his enthusiasm.
For after what seemed like the longest four months of his life all the maethyr along with his Adar were finally returning to the stronghold. They would be returning triumphant and glorious and Legolas would be damned if he were to miss out on seeing it. He could not wait to see his Adar at the head of the column leading his warriors in the traditional victory chants as they marched up to the palace. Victory was theirs; they had kept the Woodland realm safe and protected from the terror and shadow of the Great Serpents of the North.
Legolas was sure of it – sure that his people, their great warriors had quashed their fiery foes. So then why was it still so quite? Surely he should be able to hear the victory chants of the troops by now? Yet the only thing he could hear at the moment was the joyful, giddy rambling of the tree he was currently perched in, for it was as pleased as punch that a wood elf had seen fit to seek refuge among its boughs.
Legolas inched closer to the end of the branch he was on eager to see more of the troops, perhaps they were simply waiting to be closer to the palace before they started up their songs. Legolas smiled as he imagined it.
His Adar would ride at the front high upon the back of Diomedes with all the other mounted troops following, the battle elk would be next followed by the foot soldiers. The faces of warriors and beasts alike would be painted with swirling patters in gold and green, with gold ribbons and chain used to decorate the manes of the horses and the antlers of the elk. A glorious and joyful procession they would be indeed, and once back at the palace feasting and dancing would be declared for at least a week to allow everyone to celebrate with and congratulate the success of the maethyr.
He shifted again impatiently, he really could not wait and the tree he was in began to babble at him once more and it quivered as though it too was excited. Legolas grinned at its glee, patted its trunk and looked down again – the troops were getting closer; his sharp eyes were able to see them perfectly now and his smile faltered. It froze on his lips and faded away all together as he took in the solemn scene that marched ever nearer.
There were no flashes of gold nor snatches of green to be seen anywhere on any of the maethyr. The warriors looked grim and worn out and all the animals seemed uneasy. Closer inspection showed many of them to be carrying litters that tired looking healers flitted between. A good many more carried litters where the occupants were covered from head to toe, the black symbol of mourning hastily drawn onto the covering cloths.
Legolas stood up and craned his neck as his eyes darted to and from every warrior now solemnly marching by. Where was his Adar? The front of the column had passed Legolas by and Thranduil had been nowhere to be seen. Eagle sharp blue eyes continued to scan the troops below searching for distinctive ash blonde hair that remained irritatingly and worryingly elusive. Legolas was beginning to get annoyed and rather scared (if he was being honest) and he was just weighing up jumping down into the throng - future punishments be damned - when he heard it. The long, high pitched, mournful sounding whiny of Diomedes.
In an instant Legolas picked out the black stallion with the distinctive silver, star shaped patch on his forehead. Diomedes gave another long, woeful whiny and Legolas' heart suddenly caught in his throat as he saw the beast jump up and give a frightful kick out with his front legs. Next to him some poor ellon tried to calm the struggling horse and tugged down on a length of rope in an attempt to bring the horse back down on all fours. Diomedes struggled all the more as he snorted, stamped and tossed his head before he launched another kick.
Legolas continued to stare – where on Arda was his Adar? Thranduil would have Diomedes behaving and calm in a mere instant. Why was some unknown elf handling his father's horse? The beast was not given to tolerating anyone other than Thranduil; in fact he had even once bitten Legolas himself so for this ellon to try and control Diomedes was folly. Fear began to pound through him then as Diomedes continued to act up and no Thranduil appeared to soothe him. Legolas nimbly hopped to the next tree along impatient to see if he could spot his father and see what had taken him from his stallion's side. To see why he wasn't riding up in front chanting and singing joyfully like he should be. To see if he could make sense of why this return seemed more like a funeral procession than a victory parade. Legolas felt dread and panic was over him as solemn warrior after warrior and sad litter after litter continued to pass him by. The beginning of the procession was quite close to the palace now and still not one victory cry nor chant was there to be heard.
Suddenly he heard something far, far worse. The low, gentle notes of it washed over him and filled him with terror.
No, no, no. Legolas turned and fled through the trees back to the palace the way he had come. This was all wrong – it was not real. His eyes and ears were playing tricks on him. The troops were returning home with joyful songs not the songs for the dead. And his Adar was fine – he had ridden ahead as always and Legolas had simply missed him. Diomedes was calm and Thranduil was fine. Fine, fine, fine - he was fine damn it.
Legolas would go home brush and braid his hair, put on his circlet and greet his Adar back at the Palace just like a good Prince should. It was all fine. His Adar would come through the gates smiling and laughing and triumphant because he was completely and perfectly fine.
Legolas wiped away unconscious tears and hastened his steps. Everything was just fine.
Legolas hastily re-arranged his circlet and after giving himself a quick once over in his mirror he snatched open his door and hastened down the long corridor that led away from the Royal quarters. He noted unconcernedly that the Royal Guards who were usually posted at each door were not at their posts. He pondered for a moment where they all might be but he was not truly concerned at the moment – he just needed to get down to see his Adar. To see that everything was truly all ok. Valar why was this corridor so very long and winding? Had it always taken him such a great amount of time to leave the Royal quarters?
He turned the last bend and his earlier question of the Royal guards' whereabouts was answered - they were all gathered at the double doors that lead out into the Palace proper talking in whispered tones amongst themselves. One of the outdoor Palace guards was also with them. They turned as one to face him – all with varying looks of worry and unease clear on their usually stoic faces. Legolas squared his shoulders and continued to approach – they would not stop him – Legolas was determined to see his Adar.
Suddenly the gilded doors swung open to reveal an extremely worried and harassed looking Thanniel. It seemed she was about to confer with the guards gathered at the door but then her gaze fell upon Legolas.
"Oh child." She rushed toward him arms held outward and caught him in an embrace.
Legolas was immediately embarrassed; he didn't need Thanniel to coddle him like this any longer – he was far too old for it. He was twenty nine for pity's sake.
"Thanniel please," his voice sounded muffled from where she tenderly held his head close to her chest. "Please stop this – I don't have time I need…I need to go now. I need to go and greet Adar and you are making me all dishevelled. He hates that – let go."
Legolas struggled and Thanniel loosened her embrace but did not relinquish her grip on him. Instead she gently held his hand and pulled him back in the direction of his room.
"Come pen-neth," she paused to look him in the eye, "I'm afraid you won't be able to see your Adar just yet Lasseg."
Legolas snatched his hand away and made a step toward the doors again.
"Why?" There was more than a hint of fear in his voice now.
Thanniel simply held out her hand to him again and gave him a slow, sad smile. A smile that Legolas had seen once before, but it had been on Thranduil – right before he told Legolas news that had turned his entire world upside down. News that had led to Thanniel becoming a permanent fixture in his life.
Legolas' heart began to beat a frantic rhythm in his chest but he calmly took Thanniel's outstretched hand and followed her back the way he had come dread growing within him with each step.
Please, please Elbereth, he prayed, please let it not be news like that again.
So cold, so very cold and yet there was also heat. Red, hot, fiery pain that seemed as though it wanted to engulf his entire face.
It was dark here too, a pitch black darkness that even elven eyes could not pierce. It was cloying, suffocating and thick and seemed as though it wanted to drown him. To pull him deep down into its shadowy embrace.
Where was this place?
Thranduil did not like it in the least – it was miserable and he was in excruciating pain. It started as a deep ache in his shoulder spreading up into the scorching agony that seemed to be slowly melting his face. The rest of him was as cold as ice however and felt just as leaden and heavy.
Where was he? Why did he feel like this? What had happened to put him in this dank and miserable place?
Another agonizing wave of hot pain washed over him and his already dark surroundings got darker still. Thranduil did his best to remain calm even as the inky darkness seemed to grow heavier over his aching body.
He was being pulled down, down, down. Deeper, deeper, deeper.
He panicked and tried to resist, to flail, to somehow save himself from the thick black terror that closed in around him. Yet to his horror he could not move – not even the smallest muscle. The shadowy blackness washed over him completely then - crushing him, forcing dark tendrils into his mouth and down his nostrils. It washed over eyes that Thranduil could no longer be sure were open or closed.
Wave after wave of it washed over him and pitch-black tentacles anchored themselves to him and dragged him ever deeper into the abyss.
Yet the deeper he went the less was his fear. For the darkness beckoned, called to him with sweet promises of pain relief. He would be free – free from the chilling, bone deep cold and scorching hot pain.
Thranduil threw himself into the darkness' arms willingly now. He wanted nothing more than to be free of his pained existence. To melt slowly into the blackness.
He still did not know where he was nor where he was being dragged down to but found that he cared not. His pain was lessening with every tug of darkness and he felt his tiredness begin to melt away.
His consciousness ebbed then faded and at last all was black.
The darkness reigned supreme.
Deep within the Palace Calelon – the Royal chief healer – watched as his wards began to fill. Litter upon litter of wounded being brought in. He sighed as he watched his healers and apprentices scurry round with perfect order and precision as they organised the wounded according to the severity of their injuries. He noted with mounting concern that there were more litters being directed toward the 'severe' ward than any others.
Still he remained where he was, face stoic and inscrutable as he watched the organised chaos around him. He was not as cold as he looked nor was he such a harsh taskmaster that he would stand in a time of such crisis and watch as those under him began to buckle under the pressure. No – usually he would have been right there alongside them.
Yet he had been sent word that he would be needed to act in his capacity as Royal healer first and foremost.
He watched a few moments more then suddenly there was a commotion greater than all the others at the doors as Thranduil's Elite – his personal body guards came in bearing a litter, the body with covered completely. As one they threw mournful, pleading eyes on him and Calelon motioned for them to follow him still calm and stoic though his heart had begun to pound fiercely in his chest.
This is what he had feared when he first became the Royal healer centuries ago – he had long prayed to all the Valar to spare him from seeing such a day as this.
The body in the litter was placed upon the pristine white sheets with utmost care and again Calelon had to endure the hopeful, pleading looks that begged him to make things right once again before a solemn faced Crown Commander Aglardaer ushered them all out.
Alone now Calelon braced himself and threw back the white gauze that covered the body – that covered his King.
He gasped – breath stolen by what lay before him.
Burns, there were burns the message had said and burns he had prepared himself for. Yet nothing could have compared him for the utter devastation of the form that lay before him.
Calelon took a deep breath and steadied himself – he had the hopes of the realm resting upon his shoulders and the life of their King hanging precariously in his hands.
"Tiro ven Eru," he prayed and before he began the most delicate task of bringing light and life back into the ruin before him.
Maethyr – (plural) warriors
Adar – Father
Ellon – Male elf
Pen-neth – Young One
Lasseg – Little Leaf – Family nickname for Legolas
Tiro ven Eru – May Eru watch over us
Diomedes – Thranduil's horse – (Greek) Cunning Warrior
A/N: I apologise in advance - this story will not be updated as regularly as Friendship Amidst Loss as that is my priority. I will however update this story as and when I can – it will be finished so just bear with me :)
Chapter 2 by KimicThranduilion
It was the second day of the week long period of mourning that had been announced and Legolas sat listlessly on the window seat as he stared out above the courtyard below. He kicked his legs from time to time and watched the Royal flags that had been lowered to half-mast flap in the wind. Black and white mourning flags fluttered above them. The Woodland realm mourned her dead – and such a lot of dead there were too. Legolas had already been to five pyre burning ceremonies in the three days since the troops had returned home. Thranduil always attended the funeral of his warriors and where he could not the rest of the Royal family was expected to do so in his stead. Thus Legolas and his sister Rithel had been quite busy and Legolas found the condolences rolling off his tongue more and more easily.
He was not quite sure how he felt about it – about any of it. In fact he was not quite sure whether he could feel anything anymore. Since he had been told rather gently by Thanniel of his father's plight Legolas had floated along in a sort of numb cloud. Rithel, Crown Commander Aglardaer and Lord Arahaelon had all been present but Legolas heard nothing of what had been said once Thanniel had told him the reason he could not go down and greet his Adar.
Thanniel's words bounced round and round in Legolas' mind. The serpents had been defeated but at a great price to his people and especially so to his Adar. He was supposed to be brave, to stay strong and stand stoically as he attended each solemn funeral along with Rithel and so far he had done exactly that and been praised for it. Yet Legolas didn't feel particularly brave nor strong. He simply did what he must – his duty. He didn't feel brave, he didn't feel strong, he didn't feel worried or scared or anything at all. He just floated around in his cloud numb to it all; which suited him just fine really – there was another pyre burning ceremony in just under an hour.
Legolas canted a look behind him at Rithel who was stood in the middle of the room – her living room – having a formal gown amended with a few last minute stiches and embroidery. Legolas huffed a little sigh as he went back to staring listlessly out of the window. Rithel had better hurry up – they didn't have all that long.
Legolas smoothed his own black tunic and trousers (he hadn't seen the point in changing) before he rested his head gently against the glass and stared down at the strangely empty courtyard. He had rarely seen it look so deserted and empty; even when the troops had been away it had still been quite lively. Now though due to the week of mourning no one save essential staff such as the healers worked.
It's just as empty as me, was Legolas' idle thought before Thanniel's words began to crowd him once more.
Rithel struggled to remain standing perfectly still as she waited with great impatience for her nethryn to finish their delicate work on the gown she currently modelled for them. It was one she would be wearing tomorrow to attend a commemorative service for the fallen maethyr. She resisted the urge to sigh – so many funerals and now this upcoming service where half the realm would be attendance. Lord Arahaelon would preside over the ceremony in her Adar's stead but she along with Legolas would still have to attend and look their most stoic and regal. Rithel glanced over at her little brother who stared passively out of the window a look of utter boredom on his young face.
She was worried for him. Surely so much death and loss could not be good for such a young elf? There was another funeral to attend this very afternoon with still another eight yet to come in the week ahead in addition to tomorrow's service. Legolas seemed to be holding up well, he stood through all the pyre burning ceremonies with patience, seemingly unaffected by the sad laments and wails and cries of the bereaved. Yet Rithel still worried for him. For all that he outwardly seemed to be doing well, since they had received news of their Adar Legolas had stuck to her side like a bur. Rithel was unsure whether or not it was intentional but in the three days since the troops had returned home they had hardly spent any time apart whilst awake.
She supposed that he was frightened in a way – of being left alone – whether he realised it or not. It was not an unreasonable fear for him to have after all. Legolas had already suffered the terrible tragedy of their Naneth's death and it would be unsurprising if he was also scared of losing their Adar.
Unfortunately it was not a fear that could be dismissed out of hand. For though Thanniel had given news of their Adar being injured to the both her and Legolas at the same time, Rithel had afterwards been called into a meeting with Commander Aglardaer, Lord Arahaelon and been told the truth by Calelon. The rather unpalatable truth that their Adar was in actual fact close to death's door. So close in fact that he already had one foot in Mandos' Halls.
The thought frightened Rithel to her very core. The thought that she could be the next Queen of the Woodland realm, forced to take the throne before her time made her feel faint with worry. She was not ready yet to be Queen – no matter all the classes and councils and diplomatic missions she had attended – she was not ready. Rithel forced herself to breath as she began to get breathless with worry at the mere thought of it. She did not want to rule the realm, she could not rule the realm. All that her Adar and Daer-adar had worked so hard to achieve would most certainly be lost under her unprepared rule.
Nay that could not happen. Her Adar had to get better – he must.
Rithel looked down at her seamstresses, patience finally worn thin as she felt the sudden urge to visit Elbereth's temple and plead for her Adar's life. She wanted to do something, anything to stop her from feeling so useless, so helpless.
"Ladies are we nearly finished here? I would like to visit the temple before the next ceremony begins."
"Yes, yes Hiril-nin, I must simply put in another two stitches and the dress will be ready," piped up the head seamstress, "the other ladies have already finished. Correct ladies?"
Rithel was relieved to see the other two seamstresses nod their head in agreement. She stood still for a few moments more before the dress was at last declared finished.
"Perfect. Le fael ladies," Rithel nodded her thanks before she gathered the voluminous gown around her and called to her little brother who had remained listless at the window during the exchange.
"Lasseg-nin I am going to Elbereth's temple now to say some prayers quickly before the next funeral. I will be back in time – will you await me here?"
Legolas peered over his shoulder and a look of mild fright crossed his young face before the blank wall of impassivity came down again. "Ok Rithel – be safe."
He flashed her a small smile that came nowhere near his baby blue eyes before he turned back to stare out of the window before he leant his golden head against the glass and fear stabbed through Rithel at the sight. He seemed so small, so much younger than he actually was and most worryingly of all he seemed so devoid of life. The usually bright, mischievous and sparkling eyes were dull and empty.
What were the signs of fading? Could that be what was making her little brother seem so vacant?
Rithel slipped into her sleeping chamber and hurriedly began to change. She didn't have much time and now in addition to going to the temple she wanted to see one of the healers as well. She needed to know all the signs that pointed to fading so she could keep a sharp eye out for them in Legolas. She would do everything in her power to see to it that he got through this – he had suffered too much already.
Rithel entered the Temple of the Blessed Lady Elbereth hair covered with a light scarf as was customary and head bowed in supplication. It was busier than usual with laments being sung and priests lighting candles for the recently deceased. Rithel kept her head bowed and continued to walk, briskly, toward her destination – the inner sanctum of the temple.
Rithel passed through the entrance guarded by two priests and was instantly enveloped by an almost audible quiet and a sense of peace. Rarely did she ever use the privileges her Royalty afforded her but this time she felt the need to make the exception. Only the priests and Royalty were allowed to cross the threshold into the inner sanctum and Rithel had only one or twice ever done so but today she did. She did not want to be seen by prying eyes nor her prayers overheard. She was so heavy of heart and she did not want to look as weak as she felt in front of the people - that would not do. With her Adar, the King already incapacitated it was up to her as heir to the throne to be strong for the people. Or at the very least look strong.
Still, strong was the last thing she felt as she sank to her knees in front of the great marble likeness of Elbereth and lit several candles and incense sticks.
She knew that her Adar, the very one she was here to plead for, no longer believed in or called upon the Valar having lost all faith when her Naneth had fallen. Yet he had never discouraged her or Legolas from carrying on with their own temple visits and prayers.
She could see now in times like these why her Father had given up any hope in the Valar. For where were they – any of them – when the dragons were raining destruction down on her people? However she could not so easily give up her own faith, her own hope. She had to believe, had to hope that somewhere Elbereth or one of the other Valar would hear her and send help. This was her one and only source of comfort right now – and here and only here could she vent and release all her fears unseen and without burdening those she was supposed to be strong for.
"Ai blessed Elbereth hear me, please, I beseech you…"
Rithel bowed her head toward the floor and wept even as she begged, pleaded and prayed for divine intervention.
Calelon gave small hum of disapproval as he tied off the last of Thranduil's bandages. The King lay perfectly still, not even the slightest hint of pain being shown in his too pale lifeless looking body. In fact Thranduil was so lifeless looking and so wrapped up in gauze that he looked like a corpse ready for its funeral.
Calelon shook the grim thought from his head and a quick glance at Thranduil's chest assured him that the King was indeed breathing and still in the land of the living - for now.
Calelon sighed and turned to put away the roll of bandages when his assistant – Lady Ídhes appeared in the doorway.
"Hi Calelon, I've come to relieve you," she gave him a kindly smile. "You really ought to take some rest now – you have been tending to the King since he came in three days ago."
Calelon sighed again louder this time, "Yes, yes, I know but he does not improve Ídhes. I have just changed his bandages and he did not so much as twitch."
Calelon held out a bony hand over Thranduil's bandaged forehead and closed his eyes as he focussed on trying to feel for and call back the King's weakened fëa. After a moment he gave up and turned weary looking eyes to Lady Ídhes.
"He is so far away from me Ídhes, so deep in darkness. I can barely reach him." Calelon turned so he faced the large window that let in the fresh, light summer breeze. "I think we must call for help now – for this - this is beyond us."
Lady Ídhes went over to the King herself pouring forth healing energy even as she too tried to reach his fëa.
Calelon watched her work for a few moments and noted with growing distress that there was still no reaction at all from the King – it was as if he were nothing but an empty husk.
At length Lady Ídhes finally pulled back, a look of anguish on her face that Calelon was sure was reflected on his own.
"I agree with you Calelon – we must seek aid if we are to save our King."
Calelon nodded tiredly, "I will go and speak with Lord Arahaelon now. He will know how to get word to the Istari. I should like both Mithrandir and Aiwendil to lend us their aid."
"Yes I think that would be best," Lady Ídhes tied her dark hair back and immediately began to bustle round the room disposing of the used bandages Calelon hadn't yet dealt with. "I will take over here Calelon, you go on ahead and speak with Lord Arahaelon and then you really must rest. I will call for you should there be any changes."
"Hannon-le Ídhes." Calelon mumbled before he washed his hands, smoothed his hair and made for Lord Arahaelon's study.
Thranduil would be fine in Ídhes' more than capable hands. She had been trained by Lord Elrond himself after all and was the Woodland realm's most powerful healer besides himself.
His most pressing concern was to get the Istari here – and soon. For Thranduil was perilously close to entering Mandos' Halls. It would take great strength – greater that even his and Lady Ídhes' combined – to pull the King back from the brink, to bring him back into the light. Calelon was not too prideful to admit that he had reached the end of his power and strength and that he needed outside help. He just hoped that Mithrandir's strength would be enough for the task, whilst he prayed that Aiwendil would be able to use his extensive knowledge of herb lore to come up with an ointment that would be of some use against burns caused by dragon fire. For the ones they had at the moment had made no difference at all to the wounds. They were all just as red, raw and blistered as the day Thranduil had first sustained them; and that along with the King's continued unresponsiveness and weakening fëa were getting to be most worrisome.
Calelon continued along as he fervently wished that the council chambers and studies weren't three floors above the healing ward. He was so weary, a bone deep tiredness that came from having poured forth all the healing energy he could spare without endangering his own life.
Yet he would not rest until he had done all he could for his King, and he continued onward with renewed determination burning in his heart.
Four days later a wizened yet rather fidgety old man paced up and down in front of the Forest Gate. He alternated between stopping to peer out into the slowly brightening morning beyond the gate over the plains beyond and kneeling to give fond pats and ruffle the fur of his four legged companions.
The man knelt down again and this time brought out several carrots from a fold in his brown cloak and offered them up to his companions.
"Oh, late, late, late. Why, oh why is he always late. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear," the man stood up abruptly again before he resumed his frantic pacing. His large, long eared friends had made quick work of the carrots and he bent down to pet them again whilst he continued to fret.
"Always late - he is never on time. Oh dear, dear, dear."
"A wizard is never late. Nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to.* You should know that by now Radagast."
The man garbed in brown shot up and spun round to look at the one who had spoken rather startled. He hadn't heard anyone approach and he certainly hadn't been expecting his long-time friend to appear from that direction – hence his gazing through the Forest Gate to the plains beyond. Still it mattered not – he was here now.
"Gandalf, you really should stop that sneaky habit of yours. Now come, come. Hop on. We have no time."
Radagast quickly gathered the extensive folds of his brown cloak and hopped aboard the sled tethered to his rabbit friends with an agility that belied his age.
He patted the seat behind him impatiently, "Hurry Gandalf we must hurry. The Elven King needs us. We must hurry."
"Yes," Gandalf murmured as he stroked his beard slowly a thoughtful look on his face. "The message from the good Lord Arahaelon was rather cryptic even for elves. The most I got from it was that Thranduil was in need of my strength. Though it was unclear why or what for."
Radagast nodded which made his scruffy brown hat flop around and threaten to fall off altogether.
"Yes my message was rather hard to read as well Gandalf. I think they have need for my herb lore."
"Curious indeed," Gandalf leant upon his staff before he fumbled with a pouch at his hip and pulled forth his smoking pipe.
"Nay Gandalf we must go. You cannot smoke now," Radagast deftly grabbed the pipe from Gandalf and stashed it in his own pouch.
"Thranduil needs us. Why we don't know exactly but we must make haste – that much was clear at least. And my rabbits will have us there by dusk. They're very fast you know. Rhosgobel rabbits. They can -"
"Yes, yes, the rabbits" Gandalf sighed, "I thought we were in a hurry Radagast."
"Oh. Yes. Quite right Gandalf," and he patted the space behind him once more and this time his grey clothed companion obliged him.
In matter of moments the Istari were off at dizzying speed down the Elf Path towards the Elven King's halls - each in their own way anxious to get there and find out exactly why they had been summoned.
Adar – Father
Nethryn – Weavers (in this case think seamstresses)
Maethyr – (plural) warriors
Naneth – Mother
Daer-Adar - Grandfather
Hiril-nin - My Lady
Le fael – Literally: You are generous – Sindarin version of Thank you
Lasseg – Little Leaf – Family nickname for Legolas
Fëa – Soul (Quenya)
Istari – (Plural of Istar) – Quenya for Wizards
Hannon-le – Thank you
Chapter 3 by KimicThranduilion
Legolas was having a bad morning. The seven days of grieving had passed and the realm was to resume all usual work and tasks today. Legolas was glad – he was itching for some form of normality again – the recent dread, gloom and despair that had pervaded the palace had become quite stifling. However, it seemed this simple wish would not be granted him.
First he had had Thanniel fussing, hovering and generally breathing down his neck at breakfast simply because he hadn't felt like eating very much. Granted he hadn't felt like eating very much for the past week, but still, there was no need to his former nanny to have made breakfast into such a huge ordeal. Legolas was only thankful that he had chosen to have the meal in his chambers and therefore no one else had been privy to the near war that had erupted over a simple thing as porridge.
Once he had finally eaten enough to get Thanniel to cease her needless fussing he had gone to get dressed – ready for a full day of warrior training only to see that his bow string had somehow snapped. Annoyed he had stalked off toward the armory in the hope of quickly grabbing a replacement and being on his way to training. It was not to be however, for as he walked across the barracks yard toward the armory he had been stopped and accosted by Lord Arahaelon.
And that had led him to where he was presently – in a stand-off with Lord Arahaelon over whether or not Legolas ought to attend warrior training.
"I just do not think you ought to return so soon. And come let us make this conversation a little more private. I was about to head back to the palace. You can accompany me."
Legolas grit his teeth impatiently, "The entire realm is returning to their work Lord Arahaelon – why must I be any different? Surely I ought to show an example as a member of the Royal family?"
"Walk with me."
Lord Arahaelon was firmer in his suggestion of accompanying him back to the Palace this time and with a long-suffering sigh Legolas obliged. A suggestion from Lord Arahaelon was as good as an order and resistance was futile.
Legolas followed alongside the taller ellon and tried his hardest to keep his face as neutral as possible, which proved somewhat difficult as he was rather aggravated at the forced leisurely stroll he was being made to take back to the palace. He'd only just left for pity's sake, and at the rate Lord Arahaelon was walking by the time Legolas managed to convince him to let him attend training he would be late. Which would then of course incur the wrath of today's trainer – archery master Lady Yalä – an Avari elleth with a temper to rival his Adar's.
Legolas let out a slow, frustrated breath – it was going to be a very long day.
Rithel and Thanniel both looked up at the brusque knocking at the door to Thranduil's study and Rithel quickly gave the command to enter. She was surprised to see the very object of the discussion she had been having with Thanniel walk in alongside Lord Arahaelon. Legolas had a face like thunder, though Rithel could tell he was trying really very hard to look neutral. She made a mental note to help him learn to mask his emotions better. No elf's face ought to convey so much of what they thought.
"What brings you both here Lord Arahaelon? Lasseg?" Rithel sat up straighter behind her Adar's desk and hoped she did not look as much as an imposter as she felt. "I thought you were off to training Las?"
Legolas' face brightened instantly and he turned to Lord Arahaelon with a superior little grin. "See – Rithel expects me to attend my training. So what is your problem?"
"Legolas Thranduilion! You hold your tongue and show some respect for your elders and betters," Thanniel was quick to call Legolas on his rudeness. "How dare you? You will apologise to Lord Arahaelon this very instant."
"But Thanniel he -"
"But nothing Legolas. I will hear not another word from you until you apologise to Lord Arahaelon."
Rithel watched as her brother took a deep breath before whirling to face the object of his wrath and apologising. That done she was quick to get to the point and find out why Legolas had been brought before her in the first place.
"Lord Arahaelon besides his rudeness," Rithel paused to shoot Legolas a warning look, "is there a reason you have brought Legolas here?"
"Yes Riel indeed there is – I do not believe Legolas ought to return to training at present." Lord Arahaelon paused and looked at Legolas, "Please understand Legolas that I do not do this to annoy you. I'm just rather worried for you. You haven't been eating properly recently and you look tired."
Rithel scrutinized her baby brother; Legolas did look paler than usual and there was an air of tiredness about him. Not only that, she had just been speaking with Thanniel about Legolas' poor appetite since the maethyr had returned and in particular since he had found out that their Adar had been badly injured.
She bit her lip worriedly. These were two of the very first, milder signs of fading – lethargy and loss of interest in food. She had all the signs and symptoms of fading memorised after having had a long talk with Lady Ídhes.
These were signs that could be easily fixed however; and Rithel had really been hoping that a bit of exercise in the beautiful summer sun would help cheer Legolas and get him to work up an appetite. As she looked him over she could understand Lord Arahaelon's concerns for his welfare yet she felt that it would truly be best for Legolas to go to his training. The boy thrived out in the open and he had been rather cooped up of late – leaving the palace only to attend funerals. That was no way for someone with such a wild and free spirit to live for very long.
Rithel decided she would take Legolas' side – it would hopefully be the correct choice.
"I understand of course Lord Arahaelon – and I have been worried over you too Lasseg," and Rithel watched as her brother turned a dismayed face toward her. She continued unperturbed and faced Lord Arahaelon again, "however I feel it would be best in this case for Legolas to attend training. Hopefully it will give him an appetite and wear him out a little so that he will sleep soundly tonight."
Lord Arahaelon cast a doubtful look at Legolas at though weighing him up in his mind, "I simply do not want him to be injured due to tiredness… but I suppose it could do him some good."
Legolasfrowned, "I am right here; you need not act as though I weren't."
Rithel smiled at her scowling brother, "Well you ought not to still be here – lest you want to face the wrath of Lady Yalä."
Legolas paled and with a hasty bow toward his sister and Lord Arahaelon he fled the room with a panicked look on his face that Rithel could not help but chuckle at.
"Right," Rithel grabbed hold of the rather large stack of papers in front of her, "I guess I had better get my day started too."
She looked down at the hefty amount of paper work and sighed, as she decided then and there that the life of a monarch was not for her.
Long may you reign Adar, Rithel prayed fervently, berio le Eru.
Legolas hurriedly rushed through the Palace annoyed at the fact he had to navigate the winding halls for the third time that morning – and he still had not grabbed that replacement bow string. He quickened his steps even more stopping short of breaking into a run as he murmured his apologies to those unfortunate enough to get in his way.
Finally, he made it out into the courtyard and made a dash across the enchanted bridge – he might just be able to make it on time and get his bow string if he ran now.
Again, it was not to be. It seemed he was doomed to faced Lady Yalä's wrath this day.
He came off the marble bridge and rounded the corner ready to take off at full pelt when he was bowled over by something rather solid yet furry. Legolas blinked and pulled himself up into a sitting position and was startled to see a pair of large rabbits staring down at him. Before he could form a coherent thought he was interrupted by a familiar, friendly voice.
"Oh dear, oh dear. I am sorry. It's the rabbits you see they're -"
Legolas gasped in surprised before he interrupted the rambling man, "Aiwendil?"
"Ah young Legolas – just the elf. Come, you can lead us to Lord Arahaelon. No doubt your Adar will also wish to see us."
Legolas was even more startled to see the grey wizard appear behind his brown companion.
"Mithrandir?" he questioned as he finally stood to his feet, "What are you both doing here?"
Gandalf huffed as he gingerly stepped off the rabbit sled. "That's a fine way to welcome visitors young Thranduilion."
"Uh-um forgive me," Legolas gave a small bow to the Istari, "Mae govannen Mithrandir, Aiwendil – the Woodland realm welcomes you."
Gandalf snorted again and began to mutter about the hospitality of elves before he was interrupted by a frantic Radagast.
"No time Gandalf for formalities. We are in a great hurry."
Gandalf still looked disgruntled but waved a hand at Legolas none the less, "Lead on young Prince – take us to them."
Legolas froze unsure what to say in regards to his Adar; Lord Arahaelon had told him he was not to discuss the King's current health with anyone. But Mithrandir and Aiwendil were not just anyone – they were both long-time friends of his Adar.
"Well Legolas?" Gandalf prodded a lot more gently this time as though he could sense Legolas' inner turmoil.
"Um- you w- you won't be able to see Adar but I do know where Lord Arahaelon is; I will lead you to him."
Legolas lead them back across the enchanted bridge, stopped in the courtyard to hand over Aiwendil's precious rabbits to an eager groom before they continued onward.
"Mithrandir? Aiwendil?" Legolas slowed his steps so that the wizards were now on either side of him. "Exactly why have you come? And in such a hurry?"
Legolas cursed the way his voice sounded weak and worried yet he could not help it. He was worried. He hadn't really felt anything since he'd had news of his Adar's injuries yet his numb little bubble threatened to break now and he felt the beginnings of dread stir in the pit of his stomach. Somehow he had a feeling that the arrival of both Istari did not bode well for his Adar. Something was wrong, very wrong – something he had not been told of.
"Well," Gandalf pulled on his beard, "I'm not entirely sure – it was a rather cryptic message you see. The general idea was that your Adar had need of our help."
Radagast nodded his agreement even as his hat threatened to fly off his head.
Legolas swallowed and did his best to get his voice under control before he murmured, "I see."
It was he had feared then – things with his Adar went ill indeed if Lord Arahaelon had sent for them both with utmost haste.
They had reached their destination now – Lord Arahaelon's study – and Legolas tried hard to get a grip on the wildly spiraling fear that threatened to engulf him before he turned to face both wizards.
"I must attend training and I am terribly late as is – I will not join you."
Legolas gave a sharp rap on the door, and without waiting for it to be opened he announced both his guests before he gave them another bow and weak smile and all but fled down the hall.
He ignored the concerned voice of Mithrandir calling to him as he hustled back through the palace and toward the training fields. He did not notice the anxious and worried glances cast his way.
He could only feel his numb shell as it crumbled at last and all the feelings that he had hidden from came crashing down upon his young shoulders. His heart felt as though it would break – the thought of something terrible happening to his Adar – his only remaining parent was too terrible to think on. The thought of becoming an orphan smacked at him hard.
Nay, nay, Legolas shook his head as he broke into a run as he went outside once more. It could not happen - it would not – he had to be positive. He had to hope. His Adar was strong. Thanniel's words came to him again.
Legolas calmed his breathing and squared his shoulders.
His Adar was strong and Legolas determined that he would be too.
Gandalf called out to Legolas' retreating back in vain as he wondered what ailed the young prince. Mention of them being here to see Thranduil had seemed to set him on edge for some reason. And the boy had seemed positively terrified when Gandalf had stated they had come to lend Thranduil their aid. The fear in his eyes had been impossible to miss.
Gandalf harrumphed. He was already tired of elves and their odd, cryptic and shifty ways. He was an Istar – it was he who was meant to confound them – not the other way around.
Gandalf pushed open Lord Arahaelon's door determined he would have some answers.
Lady Yalä watched from the corner of her eye as the young Prince Legolas slipped into her class a full thirty minutes late. She turned to pin him with a glare and was about to let loose with her famous temper when she saw his eyes. Fear and heartbreak were clear within them for her to read; though she could tell he was doing his best to mask those feelings. Indeed, his face was blank yet the emotion shone through in his eyes. Nevertheless, it was her job to instill discipline in the future maethyr of the Woodland realm – regardless of title.
"You are late Thranduilion," she barked and raised a single dark eyebrow in a silent demand for an answer.
"I am sorry Hiril-nin," Legolas kept his eyes appropriately downcast and his head bowed. "Lord Arahaelon had need of me and then I had two guests to attend. Still I know there is no excuse for tardiness and again you have my full apologies."
"I understand your position Thranduilion," at that Legolas raised his head and eyes and looked her full in the face and the fear and sadness she saw in those bright blue eyes gentled her tone. "Still I cannot accept tardiness, you are correct – so there will be laps around the training grounds for you after this session is done."
"Now warm up whilst you watch this demonstration."
Lady Yalä's voice rang loud and clear across the training ground as she effortlessly and rather mindlessly demonstrated the technique to her young warriors-in-training. She had done it so many times over the centuries she knew the demonstration like the back of her hand.
Yet that was not the only reason for her absent mindedness. She pondered the look the young Prince had in his eyes – he seemed so fearful, so sad. Had the condition of the King worsened? For everyone knew by now that the King had been injured in the battle. What no one knew however was the extent of his injuries; though she herself had presumed they were fairly serious when he made no appearance at the memorial service for his fallen troops.
Her eyes momentarily flicked upward to where the Royal flags still fluttered at half-mast in the distance. That in itself was unusual – the flags should have been raised again when the black and white mourning flags had been removed.
Lady Yalä ended her demonstration and called up the first of her students to have a try. As she did so her eyes again fell upon the Prince and she could not help but wonder what he knew, what he had been told this morning that gave him such a sorrowful look. If anyone knew why the Royal flags still flew at half-mast it would be Legolas – and if one were to go off the abject look in his eyes – well – things did not look good for the King. Not at all.
Lady Yalä sent up a silent prayer to all the Valar – she would hate to see the realm lose its King; but even more than that she would hate to see one of her most promising students lose the only parent he had this side of the Sundering Seas.
Elbereth please, she prayed, please watch over our King.
Gandalf looked upon the ruined face that supposedly belonged to his long-time friend. He understood perfectly now just why Lord Arahaelon had had such urgent need of their help. Gandalf sighed as he wondered just where to begin. Radagast and the Royal healer Calelon were in the apothecary putting together powerful painkillers and salves yet Gandalf just stared as he contemplated the grievous injuries before him.
The facial burn was the most grievous of all the burns the elven King had sustained and stretched from eyebrow to chin. It also covered Thranduil's left eye which had a frosted, vacant look to it and Gandalf wondered sadly if the eye would ever be of any use to its owner again. Melted, waxy looking flesh gave way to raw red muscle some of which had been burned away to expose the stringy, pale pink sinew beneath. The area over Thranduil's cheek was particularly bad, held together by only two strands of exposed sinew, and all that was only his face.
There were further lighter burns all down the left side of Thranduil's torso before they came to an end at the King's hip. Though lighter and seemingly less damaging Gandalf knew that dragon fire was dragon fire, and even those lesser burns would give Thranduil hell in terms of pain. Wounds from dragon fire were also notoriously difficult to heal and were one of the few things that could permanently scar an elf.
He sighed again and pursed his lips before he gave a weary tug on his beard. At last he put a hand on Thranduil's brow and felt for the King's fëa. He was not happy with what he felt.
Thranduil was far away indeed – it was no wonder that even the combined efforts of the Wood's two strongest healers hadn't been enough to call their King back. Thranduil was deep in shadow, fëa wandering very near to Lord Námo's Halls.
They had come not a moment too soon.
Gandalf would deal with the wounds after – Thranduil's fëa took priority. Placing both hands upon the King's chest Gandalf called forth his power and he begun to call back Thranduil's weakened, deeply injured fëa into the light.
With a start Thranduil became aware of a voice. Soft, gentle and caring.
It sounded muffled and he strained to hear it more clearly when he became aware of a small, faint red light. That immediately grabbed his attention and voice was forgotten as Thranduil began to follow the light. It seemed forever since he had been here, wherever here was, alone in the darkness. The light immediately enchanted him and he followed it willing.
He was so fixed on the light that he did not notice his surroundings as they got lighter and lighter.
He did not notice that the pitch black darkness got less oppressive as he continued to follow the light upwards.
He did not notice inky black tendrils as they unwillingly gave up their possessive grip on him.
He did not notice as the cold that rivalled the Helcaraxë began to dissipate into a genteel warmth.
He did notice the pain.
It was sudden and sharp and immediately pulled him out of the trance like state he had been in whilst focused on the light. It tore across his face like a giant fiery claw and Thranduil let out a soundless scream. He struggled as all of a sudden he noticed he was no longer in the nameless, dark, pain-free void. The light no longer appealed and he fought to sink back down into the black, numb oblivion.
Yet he could not. The red light was stronger now and seemed to draw him toward it of its own accord. Thranduil did not want to follow it – for now it felt as though flame licked across this face and upper half. It burned terribly and the pain was overwhelming. The heat was like nothing he could recall feeling before. It was as though someone had dipped the top half of him into Orodruin itself.
Thranduil gave another pained yet soundless cry sure that he would soon be overwhelmed and die.
Just then the red light flared then glowed brightly and enveloped him in warmth. A real genuine warmth – not the fierce fiery pain he had just felt. In fact his pain eased and slowly began to flow away.
All of a sudden Thranduil felt relaxed. Warm. Contented. And then – he was finally, blessedly, pain free once more.
The voice he had first heard was there again – stronger and clearer now.
"…tolo dan nan galad."
Thranduil recognised the voice just before he lost his brief struggle against the sleep that swiftly overtook him.
Gandalf sighed in relief as Thranduil shifted into a natural sleep rather than the death like unconsciousness he had previously been in. It had been hard to watch the elven King struggle and writhe in pain as Gandalf dragged his soul and consciousness back into the light. It had evidently been a excruciating experience for Thranduil as both Radagast and Calelon had been needed to hold the King down as he had flailed about madly.
Still at least Thranduil was back with them now – and Gandalf was determined to see that it stayed that way. He would not see the Woodland realm lose its greatest King.
"You may let him loose for he sleeps naturally now," Gandalf nodded his thanks to both Radagast and Calelon. "Please show some haste with those herbs – he will awaken again and his pain will be terrible."
The two hustled off to finish their potions and Gandalf hummed quietly to himself and brushed a loose strand of ash blond hair from Thranduil's sweat dampened brow.
The worst was not yet over for Thranduil, the Istar mused darkly. Indeed, it had only just begun.
Ellon – Male elf
Elleth - Female elf
Adar – Father
Lasseg – Little Leaf – Family nickname for Legolas
Riel – Princess
Maethyr – (plural) warriors
Berio le Eru – May Eru protect you
Istari – (Plural of Istar) – Quenya for Wizards
Mae Govannen – Well met
Hiril-nin - My Lady
Fëa – Soul (Quenya)
Tolo Dan Nan Galad – Come back to the Light
Chapter 4 by KimicThranduilion
Radagast chanted slowly over the final potion before him and watched as it slowly turned a pale blue colour. TheIstar nodded, it was ready at last.
The brown wizard turned to face the bed in which his close friend Thranduil lay. Calelon had just finished applying the second of the three salves they had prepared for the King's grievous burns, whilst Gandalf sat on a chair in the far corner of the room as he recovered from his recent exertion of power.
Radagast padded over to him slowly, pot of pale blue potion in hand. "Erm…Gandalf? I…my potion is made but it will need you to activate it once it's been applied." Radagast cocked his head to the side and studied his grey companion, "Are you recovered yet Gandalf? As we need to activate the potion straight away once applied."
"Yes, yes," Gandalf muttered as he sat up straighter in his chair and then motioned for Radagast to proceed.
Radagast walked until he stood above Thranduil and looked down at him. He was burned so very badly – Radagast could not even begin to imagine the pain the elven King would have gone through. Radagast continued to stare down at him sadly – very few knew it but Thranduil often sought him out, and where others often took him for a bumbling fool Thranduil had a healthy respect for him. As such Radagast had taught the elven King much about herb lore and how to harness and use green magic – he had even helped the King set the spell upon the Enchanted River. Over the centuries they had become unlikely but firm friends and he would not let his friend suffer any longer.
Determined, Radagast stepped up and first called the healing chant to memory – it had been a good few centuries since he had needed to use such a strong healing song. The first part of it – his part - was to be sung in Sindarin with the second part –Gandalf's – to be sung in the high tongue of Quenya. He went over the lines in his head a few times and once certain he had it correct he began to work his way around Thranduil's bed as he applied the potion and sung the chant.
"Ceven dhaer, anno vellas lín enin 'raw hen…"
With each application of the potion Radagast pushed a little surge of power into Thranduil. He hoped it would help strengthen and sustain the King against the next step in the process.
At length the last wound was tended to and Radagast cast a weary glance over to Gandalf to see if he was ready to step in. It seemed he had perhaps pushed a bit too much of his own strength into Thranduil, but if it would help his friend then Radagast did not regret it one bit.
"I have done my half Gandalf – now for your turn. Oh, do, do hurry Gandalf, we haven't much time to activate it."
"Yes, yes, I know – keep your hat on."
Gandalf rolled his eyes heartily at his brown robed companion. Really did Radagast think he had a hearing problem? He had heard him the first time and was fully prepared to do his part – even if he had not looked it.
With one last irritated tut Gandalf stoop up and stretched forth his left hand – the hand that held Narya - over Thranduil's prone form.
"Hold him steady now Radagast, Calelon – I do not know how much this may hurt him."
The two did as instructed and satisfied Gandalf immediately began. Radagast did have a reason to fuss – the time span between the first and second part of this healing procedure needed to be kept to a minimum for it to have maximum effect.
"Nárendur á pusta…"
The once pale blue potion began to glow and slowly turn a pale red with each word intoned by Gandalf. Thranduil stirred slightly mouth parting as his breaths began to come faster and harsher. He did not thrash, only flinched from time to time as a small frown worked its way onto his face. So far so good, thought Gandalf as he moved deeper into the chant. Maybe, just maybe Thranduil would come out of this without much pain on his part. Gandalf certainly hoped so – the elven King had already suffered enough.
"Á rucë sí Nárendur… á tíra cotumolya…"
The glowing continued until the potion turned fully red and it was at this point that Thranduil began to move much more forcefully. He bucked and thrashed as he turned his head from side to side and began to groan.
Gandalf forced himself to focus and sang on, "Nárendur á pusta…"
The potion was a deep ruby red now and its glow spread so that it encompassed Thranduil's body fully. Thranduil unfortunately chose this moment to wake up and scream. The scream was one of pure agony and deep pain yet Gandalf hardened his heart to it and continued on regardless. This was for Thranduil's own good – it would help him in the end.
Gandalf stood firm and continued to focus as he called forth the evil that made dragon fire burn so terribly. The level of power he used threated to lift the illusion that kept Narya a hidden secret and Gandalf upped his concentration again as he struggled to get the power balance right. No one save Cirdan, Lady Galadriel, Lord Elrond and of course Radagast knew he held an elvish ring of power and Gandalf had no intention of letting that information become public knowledge.
He struggled for a moment before he finally struck the right balance and continued with his chant.
"Á rucë sí Nárendur…"
Thranduil screamed all the more, bucked and thrashed so wildly that had it not been for Radagast and Calelon he would have fallen from the bed. He was more than fully awake now, though his eyes were rolled back in his head as he writhed and shouted in agony. Gandalf simply gave thanks that the walls of Thranduil's stronghold were thick enough to save any passing wood elf from hearing their King scream in tortured anguish.
They were nearly at the end now; the glow around Thranduil had all but disappeared and the potion slowly returned to its original pale blue colour as the malevolent sting of dragon fire let loose its hold upon Thranduil's tender skin. For an ancient healing spell that Gandalf had used but once before it had gone rather well; the evil that lingered in the burns had heeded the will of Narya – master of all fire – and fled.
Now Thranduil's body would have a chance at healing. True, there was much more work to be done on him and he would face a lengthy recovery alongside unsightly scars but at least the slimy evil of dragon fire would not hinder him in his progress – would not drag him back into the abyss.
Finally Gandalf pulled back his hand and all but slumped to the floor in exhaustion. It had been a long time indeed since he had had need to call on so much of Narya's power and he felt utterly drained. Still - he pulled himself back up – Thranduil had not yet stopped his anguished wailing and he still trashed violently against his brown companion and the Royal healer.
Gently and mindful of the burns that had nearly eaten away the King's face, Gandalf tenderly cupped the unburned side of Thranduil's face and held him steady.
Thranduil tried to move his head but Gandalf's gentle yet strong hold prevented him from doing so, though the King did not cease in flailing his body.
"Sîdh, sîdh, Oropherion – heed my voice and calm yourself."
Thranduil's thrashing eased only a fraction whilst his one clear eye roved the room – fear and confusion easy to see in the ice blue orb.
"I need…I need – no, no, no…" Thranduil's voice was no more than a whisper, hoarse from screaming and smoke inhalation as he tried desperately to move his head so he could look around but Gandalf held him still.
"Look at me Oropherion, look at me – be calm," Gandalf soothed. "You are not on the battle field now. Sîdh mellon-nin."
Slowly Thranduil stopped his writhing and Gandalf gently angled the King's head so that he could look him in the eye.
"Just focus on me mellon-nin – you are at home now – the battle field is left far behind. You are injured but we will help you," Gandalf intoned slowly and calmly.
The grey wizard could sense Thranduil's great unease and panic had not calmed in the slightest as he continued to look frantically round the room. With a sigh Gandalf stroked his ash blonde hair – if he could just get Thranduil to focus, to calm himself and just focus on him things would go a lot smoother.
Gandalf tried to soothe the elven King again, "Me Oropherion – forget about looking around the room. Just calm yourself and look at me."
Instead of calming Thranduil got even more agitated as his one clear eye continued to dart from direction to direction and he bucked hard against Calelon and Radagast as he tried his utmost to sit up.
"Where Mithrandir?" Thranduil's hoarse voice was steeped in panic.
"Where are you? Mithandir? I can't… I can't see!"
Thranduil knew he sounded panicked, frightened even – but he did not care. He could not see.
He. Could. Not. See.
Black - black was everywhere even though Thranduil knew very well that his eyes were wide open. He could hear Mithrandir speaking to him, telling him to be calm yet he paid him no mind as he tried again to sit up in spite of the pain in his body only to find himself being held down firmly and he had no strength left to try again. Instead he keep moving his eyes – up and down, round and round, left and right hoping against hope – but still there remained just blackness.
Complete and utter darkness.
Thranduil jerked his head free of Mithrandir's grip at last and let it lay on the pillow in exhaustion as he let the fact that he could not see sink in. He tried his best to calm, willed his rapidly beating heart back to a normal pace and at last let out a long shaky breath. He stared hard into the inky blackness and felt a single tear slip from his right eye.
He. Could. Not. See.
The words spun round and round in his mind and Thranduil felt another tear slide free. It came from his left eye that time, stung horrifically and caused more tears to spring to eyes. Thranduil tried, tried hard to blink them away but each blink only confirmed his plight. Whether his eyes were closed or open the darkness remained.
"Leave me," Thranduil cringed to hear the soft weakness of his voice and tried to steady it. "Leave me now."
"B-but Aran-nin I really need to…"
"Calelon, Mithrandir and…Aiwendil – it is you right? I can feel your presence. Please leave…I…I need…"
"Nay Oropherion we are not leaving you," Thranduil could hear the concern in the grey wizard's voice. "We have only just dragged you back from the brink – what you need is to let Calelon take a look at you. Starting with your eyes, we will do everything to help you Thranduil…"
Thranduil cut him off, "What? What will you do Mithrandir? If my sight is gone then it is gone – there will be no help and I…I…"
The King found himself choked by a sob and took a great heaving breath before he continued, "Just leave me please – I need…I need a moment. Go."
"Th-Thranduil…" Aiwendil's voice sounded soft and broken but it could not match just how broken Thranduil felt inside at that moment.
"Come," Calelon's smooth calming voice interrupted the brown wizard, "We will leave but only for a moment Aran-nin. Then I must come back and tend you and check over your sight. The sooner I begin the more chance we may have of saving it."
Thranduil only gave a soft snort which gave way to a near silent sob. The door clicked shut behind the three and for the first time since his beautiful wife's death Thranduil loosened his iron grip on his emotions and gave them free reign.
Grief, pain, fear and despair all freely flowed forth.
And the elven King cried.
Legolas glared at his arrow that had gone so clearly astray. Why could he not get this right? He was usually so good in his archery lessons and it was rather aggravating that he was so off today.
"Right all - that's it for today. You are dismissed but I recommend that you all seek the training grounds before our next lesson together and get some practice in." Lady Yalä chuckled, "Some of you definitely need it."
Legolas huffed and stalked over to collect his wayward arrows – they had all been so off the mark – how embarrassing.
Legolas turned to see his three best friends as they too gathered their arrows.
"Valar Las you were quite off today," Aeglosson stated as he plucked one of Legolas' arrows from a nearby hedge and handed it to him.
"Do not remind me," Legolas pouted as he accepted another awry arrow from Tauriel. "I am surprised Lady Yalä did not call me out on it."
Faervel gave him a small encouraging smile, "It was not so bad Las – Aeglosson exaggerates as ever. After all it is only our first time trying this technique."
"Yes but no one was quite as bad at it as me today," Legolas could not shake his annoyance.
"Well it's over for now – doubtless you will practise yourself silly before the next lesson and show us all up then." Tauriel smiled at him, "Now are you coming for lunch?"
"Yeah," Aeglosson piped up. "My Naneth packed us up a huge lunch back at mine. She said we were welcome to come and take it after practice and head out for a picnic."
"Uh I don't think -" Legolas cut himself off as he felt the ominous presence of Lady Yalä behind him.
"Going somewhere Thranduilion? If I remember you have laps to do for me."
Legolas spun slowly on his heel before he dipped into a quick bow, "Of course Lady Yalä. I will begin them now."
The Prince turned to look at his friends apologetically, "Sorry mellyn – you go on ahead and enjoy."
"Will you join us later? We can wait for you." Faervel was ever the nice one.
Legolas gave him a quick small smile before he shook his head – no. He would have loved to go on a picnic with his friends and he knew they would have waited for him. After all it would not take him overlong to get through Lady Yalä's punishment. But Legolas wanted to get back home – he had decided to face his fears and accost one of the adults in his life and get them to tell him the truth about his Adar. He needed to know; twas the reason he had been so off his aim during the lesson and Legolas knew he could not function properly whilst he was so in the dark about his Adar.
"Nay – I am to head straight back to the palace after this, Lord Arahaelon's orders," Legolas fibbed when he saw that his friends looked as though they would protest.
"Oh – ok – I guess we'll see you tomorrow then Las."
Legolas nodded, quashed his guilt at the lie and waved goodbye before he followed after Lady Yalä to begin his laps.
He would use his punishment time to get his head clear and straight before he confronted either Rithel, Thanniel or Lord Arahaelon. Physical exertion and fresh air always helped him feel better and think more clearly and already this morning he had managed to work off most of the cloying fear from earlier that morning that had near crippled him. He would be brave, he would be strong and he would find out the truth about his Adar.
Thranduil lay perfectly still and emotionally drained. He had gained a hold of himself, ceased his weeping and now waited patiently for the expected return of Calelon. The time of his grief was done. He was King and he had to move on. Or at the very least try.
He sighed as he continued to blankly stare into nothing. He thought that the darkness in his right eye had lightened somewhat to a more dull grey; then again it was likely his overly hopeful imagination showing him what he most wanted just then.
Valar how he wanted it. For this to all be some form of shock or something that he would recover from and regain his full sight. Yet Thranduil was nothing if not a realist. He knew that this tale had a very slim chance of a happy ending; whilst he had sobbed he had reached up to wipe at his eyes and… well… half of his face seemed to be missing. He had jerked his hands back in shock and agony as his raw skin protested at being touched but not before he had gained a glimpse of how much of a wreck his face was.
Slowly Thranduil began to take stock of the rest of his body and started by wiggling his toes. He moved upward, bit by bit, wincing a little as he felt a painful area on his hip. The further up he went the worse the pain seemed to get and Thranduil found himself gasping at it. Finally he was back up to his face again and the elven King braced himself as he lifted a shaky hand in readiness to touch it. He wanted detail – to know just how badly he was maimed.
"I would not do that if I were you Aran-nin or I fear you will come to regret it. The wounds are still very fresh and will be very tender."
Thranduil stilled then let his hand drop slowly to his side at Calelon's voice.
"How bad is it? My face Calelon – how bad?"
A weary sigh left the Royal healer before, "Quite bad. Now here, drink this it will help your pain."
Thranduil forced himself to swallow the vile drink set to his lips before he ground out another question. "Quite bad tells me nothing Calelon. Tell me this instead – will I be able to face others again without them fleeing in terror at the sight of me?"
Another deep sigh, "You will have to learn how to hold a glamour spell in place – and a powerful one at that."
Thranduil's heart sank, "That bad?"
"Yes Aran-nin that bad. Even once you heal your face will never be the same – not this side of the Seas. I am sorry. Now may I have a look at your eyes and conduct a few tests? Your looks I can do nothing for but your sight I may well be able to save."
Thranduil lay still and tried not to flinch as he felt Calelon's cool hands upon him, but it was difficult. The pain in his face was unbearable even with the painkiller he had taken and it was not long before Thranduil flinched away from the Royal healer's touch with a gasp.
"I am sorry Aran-nin, this will hurt and I wish I could put you to sleep or give you something stronger for the pain but I need you awake for this part of the procedure. I apologise in advance for any pain I cause you."
"Worry not Calelon – do as you must. Tis doubtful that I would be able to find rest anyway."
"But you must Aran-nin for tis the only way you will recover."
"Hmm," Thranduil gave a non-committal grunt.
Unless Calelon drugged him Thranduil knew he would not find rest. Already the burden of his Kingship began to crowd him as he tried to recall his last memories. How had he gotten here from the battle field? And what of his maethyr? How had they fared? Had they won? Or had his and his people's suffering been in vain?
Thranduil scrunched his face up both at the pain of being examined and as he tried desperately to call forth his memory. Alas for him all remained as dark as his sight currently was. He could remember nothing.
"I cannot remember."
"That is expected – do not worry over much at this stage. After all Mithrandir had to call you back from the very brink of Mandos. It will be a few days until anything comes back to you."
Mandos? So that had been where the dark place was, Thranduil mused. He had been badly off indeed.
Thranduil hissed as he felt Calelon lift the lid on his sore left eye and decided to keep speaking to distract himself from the pain as well as catch up on what had gone on in his realm since whenever it was he had been knocked out.
"How long have I been asleep?"
"Nine days? Elberethabove!" Thranduil had not expected that, "I take it Lord Arahaelon has assumed position as Regent?"
"Yes Aran-nin with Riel Rithel at his side. Along with the help of Bôr they seem to have everything under control. And worry not we were victorious over the dragon scum – you cut down the last one that charged our forces. The Serpants of the North have been routed and the realm is safe."
Thranduil tried his hardest to remember the battle – to call to mind how it had gone yet still nothing came to him and he cursed under his breath.
"Sîdh Aran-nin you will get a full report from the war council eventually and it will all return to you then if not before. If it eases your mind now however I am told that all the dragons were slain apart from one slug which managed to make good its escape."
Thranduil tensed at that news before Calelon soothed him again.
"There have been watches set day and night my Liege – if that dragon were to show its face again we are well prepared."
Thranduil felt himself relax a little. Arahaelon was wise – he would ensure the realms safety whilst Thranduil recovered.
Any sense of relaxation quickly left Thranduil and he very nearly screamed as he felt pain tear trough the left side of his face and Calelon hastily apologised.
Struggling not to whimper Thranduil asked after his warriors. "How have the maethyrfared? How many wounded? How many deaths?"
"Aran-nin I do not think -"
"How many?" Thranduil was pleased with the strength he managed to get into the question.
Calelon gave that great, weary sigh again. "Too many. The numbers of wounded are so great that we have had to open the lower emergency healing halls in order to tend to them all."
"And the deaths?"
"Also far too many. Twenty five arrived here already dead and a further five joined them. My staff have worked very hard but could do nothing for them."
"Of course - I have every faith in all thenestryn," Thranduil was quick to assure.
"Le fael Aran-nin. There remain another five warriors perilously close to Mandos but again I assure you my staff will do everything in their power to keep them in the land of the living."
"I know and I thank you and your healers for all you have done and continue to do."
Thranduil meant it. His people were often mocked as 'less wise' but they were in fact very skilled in herb lore and medicines; he knew he could rest assured that his warriors would receive the best medical care possible outside Imlardris.
Satisfied that he knew what he needed to know regarding the realm Thranduil asked the last question he was dying to have answered. He would have asked it beforehand but he was a King first and a father second. It was sad but a fact of his position.
"What of my children? You mentioned Rithel was aiding Lord Arahaelon but what of Legolas? How do they both fare? Do they know the extent of my injuries?"
"Riel Rithel has been nothing but exceptional – a pillar of strength to the people; she has done the name of the Royal House of Oropher proud. Ernil Legolas too has been most brave for someone so young. Both he and Riel Rithel attended every funeral in your place. Riel Rithel alone however knows the extent of your injuries – Thanniel, Lord Arahaelon and the Princess deemed Ernil Legolas too young for all the details."
Thranduil attempted to nod before he swiftly abandoned the agony inducing action, "I see. Thank you for filling me in Calelon, it is most appreciated."
"You are most welcome my Liege," and Thranduil could hear as the Royal healer pottered around with something before Calelon moved closer to his bedside again.
"I have finished my examination of your eyes and face now Aran-nin. I will begin to bandage your wounds now and I think it will be best if you are asleep for that part."
Thranduil felt himself gently propped up before the cool rim of a glass was pressed to his lips for the second time.
"This will help you sleep and contains stronger medicine for your pain Aran-nin; the more rest you get the faster and easier your recovery will be."
Thranduil lifted a trembling hand and slowly pushed the glass aside. "Do not try and put me to sleep without first telling me your findings Calelon. What of my eyes? My sight?"
"As you wish Aran-nin – I believe in your right eye you have what is called flash blindness. It is caused by exposure to high intensity light and heat. I will put some ointment directly into the eye itself which whilst uncomfortable will help greatly. It is my hope that you will have full vision in your right eye within the next two days."
Thranduil wanted to smile, grin and whoop for joy but he heard what Calelon had been very, very careful to say – his right eye. Calelon had spoken of his right eye only and not the left so instead Thranduil braced himself.
"That is good news indeed but I notice you have said nothing about the sight in my left eye."
Thranduil gulped as Calelon gave that heavy sigh that he had come to dread.
"I am so very sorry," Calelon began and Thranduil felt his heart sink in fear. "It will take a divine miracle from the hands of the Valar themselves for you to ever see even a smidgen of light in that eye. I am afraid Aran-nin that your left eye will never see again."
Istar – Quenya for Wizard
Ceven dhaer, anno vellas lín enin 'raw hen - Great earth, may you give your strength to this body
Nárendur á pusta – Servant of Fire halt (Quenya)
Á rucë sí Nárendur – Flee now Servant of Fire (Quenya)
Á tíra cotumolya - Face your foe (Quenya)
Sîdh – Peace
Mellon-nin - My friend
Aran-nin - My King
Naneth - Mother
Mellyn – Friends
Adar – Father
Maethyr – (plural) Warriors
Riel – Princess
Nestryn – (plural) Healers
Le fael – Literally: You are generous – Sindarin version of Thank you
Ernil – Prince
Chapter 5 by KimicThranduilion
Legolas glared at Calelon as the older ellon stood stock still, arms folded across his chest and a firm frown upon his usually calm face.
"I am afraid I cannot grant you permission to see your Adar at present Ernil-nin," Calelon stood directly in front of the doors that Legolas so badly wanted to get through.
"Why not?" Legolas was all but growling at the royal healer now - he really was getting frustrated.
For the past three days Legolas had tried and failed to get any new information on his Adar. He had asked Rithel first thinking she would be most sympathetic to his plight but to his great surprise and annoyance she had given him the exact same spiel as Thanniel had before and she would not be moved from it nor had she answered any further questions from him. Rithel claimed to be just as in the dark as Legolas but the young Prince knew that to be entirely untrue. Still for the sake of not falling out with his big sister he had left the matter alone and instead gone to pester Thanniel.
The result was the same; Thanniel would not elaborate any further on his Adar's condition merely telling him that he ought not to worry, that his Adar was in good hands and that he should continue to keep being brave. Legolas had been unable to stop himself answering her sarcastically and they had ended up in a row. Indeed he had still been giving her the silent treatment this morning at breakfast.
Lord Arahaelon had been his last and final stop. Legolas had never wanted to go to his Adar's Regent; he was always so stern and grim faced and proper. He was sure the older ellon would tell him nothing new and he had not been disappointed. Lord Arahaelon told Legolas the exact same thing he had heard before from both Rithel and Thanniel. At that point Legolas had been enraged and ended up having yet another furious row - that time with Lord Arahaelon - which saw him grounded by the older ellon.
Legolas didn't really care – he'd hardly been going out since this had all started anyway – he was far too worried over his Adar and the potentially awful news that was being kept from him.
Finally Legolas had decided to something about it. If no one would give him an answer he would go and get one for himself.
And that brought Legolas to where he was now - just outside the private rooms in which his Adar currently resided in a standoff with Calelon. He had managed to sneak through the entire healing ward and had just been about to open the door when Calelon had opened it from the other side and looked quite shocked to see Legolas standing there. Calelon had swiftly shut the door behind him in a hurry before Legolas could even catch a glimpse of the room beyond. Legolas had demanded entry to see his Father and Calelon had denied him at once - so now here they were.
"I'm afraid he is asleep Ernil Legolas and cannot be disturbed just now. The more he sleeps the quicker he will get better."
Legolas pouted, "Well then can I come see him once he has woken up?"
"I am sorry Ernil-nin but it is for the best if your Adar has no visitors at all right now. He needs to be kept calm and stress free at the moment."
Legolas was in despair, "Why would seeing me stress him out? He is my Adar!"
Calelon gave a short shake of his head and began to speak again but Legolas interrupted him.
"Yes, yes I know what you will say Calelon – that you are sorry but I still can't see him and do you know what? That's just fine. I don't care anymore!"
With that Legolas turned on his heel and stormed off back up to his room. The young Prince bit his lip to keep the tears that threatened from spilling freely forth.
He felt so betrayed by everyone – Rithel, Thanniel, Lord Arahaelon and now Calelon.
Legolas threw himself onto his bed as he stomped into his bed chamber and at last let free his hot tears of frustration, anger and worry. He knew, he just knew that there was something gravely wrong with his Adar. The adults would not go to such lengths to keep him in the dark otherwise. Not only that but Mithrandir and Aiwendil were both still at the palace – had spotted them both the day before.
Legolas clenched his fists and buried his face in his pillows; he would never forgive any of them if something bad happened to his Adar.
Please Adar, he prayed, please, please be ok.
"…I don't care anymore!"
Thranduil clenched his fists in his bed sheets before he rapidly unclenched them when his singed skin protested such movement. It pained the elven King to hear his son so upset and it was all Thranduil's fault. For truthfully he could have visitors; he had just chosen not to and had instructed Calelon to keep everyone – Legolas included – at bay. The only ones he permitted to see him were Calelon, Aiwendil and Gandalf.
Thranduil really hadn't expected Legolas to turn up right at the very door to his private room on the healing ward. He would have to instruct Calelon to be a bit more vigilant; Legolas was wily and when he had his heart set on something he was not so easily dissuaded. Thranduil knew he would be back – anxious to see him and confirm that everything was alright with his Adar.
Thranduil frowned ever so slightly (too much facial movement hurt); everything was not alright. In fact things were as far from alright as they could be and hence Thranduil's refusal to see anyone just now. The elven King sighed as his thoughts turned to his current circumstances.
Thranduil was swathed in bandages from head to foot and he ached from head to foot. Valar how he ached. The pain varied from place to place on his body, from dull pain in his upper thigh to pure agony in his face. Not only that but his bandaged skin felt hot and way too tight, as if it were going to burst if he moved too much. That discomfort coupled with the pain his extensive burns caused him had seen Thranduil actually ask Calelon for one of his vile but potent pain killing brews. Thranduil had spent most of the past two days asleep and he doubted today would be any different. Already he could feel himself begin to be pulled under by the latest vile tea Calelon had given him.
Almost as if summoned by his very thoughts Calelon rested his hand on Thranduil's shoulder and spoke quickly to reassure his King. "Sîdh Aran-nin tis only me."
Thranduil forced himself to relax and pretended to himself that he had not jumped when Calelon had touched his arm. He was still not used to not being able to see and so every time Calelon approached or touched him Thranduil near jumped out of his skin. The healer had the uncanny way of moving as silently as a wraith and due to his injuries Thranduil was having a hard time in sensing his presence. With the two Istar Thranduil could at least smell them – Mithrandir smelt of pipe weed whilst Aiwendil smelled of hay and rabbits. Calelon however smelt of the very healing ward itself and so always caught the King unawares.
"Calelon when will my senses return to me? You scare me half to death every time you approach."
The healer gave a small chuckle, "My apologies Aran-nin, believe me it is not my intention – I worked too hard to keep you out of Mandos. Your senses will return in time – your body is pre-occupied with healing itself right now and so your ability to sense the presence of others will naturally be somewhat diminished but do not fear. All will get better in time."
Thranduil snorted softly - bitterly, "You know that is not true Calelon. You yourself told me my left eye will never get better."
The Royal healer sighed as he began to fuss round Thranduil smoothing back his hair, straightening his bed sheets and fluffing his pillows. Calelon knew the King was still rather upset over the news of his blindness and the healer fell silent for a moment as he searched for the right words to say. He didn't want Thranduil to sink back into the silent depression that had enveloped him when the King had first heard the news.
"I stand corrected. Nearly everything that ails you now will get better in time. How is that Aran-nin?"
"Hn," Thranduil made a small non-committal noise. He did not want to focus on his loss of sight; it was best if he pushed those dark thoughts right to the very back of his mind. Not to mention he was really starting to feel the effects of the pain killing draught now. Instead Thranduil apologised for his son's rudeness, "I am sorry about Legolas – the boy can be given to fits of temper from time to time."
"Oh think nothing of it, after all such a thing is expected from any offspring of yours Aran-nin."
Thranduil could hear the teasing smile in Calelon's voice and rolled his eyes. He regretted the action immediately as a sharp stinging pain flared in both bandaged eyes. The elven King could not help the groan that slipped past his lips – the pain was so intense.
Calelon was there in a flash. "What? What is wrong Aran-nin?"
Thranduil grit his teeth against the burning agony and remained silent for a moment as he slowly mastered the pain.
"Do…do n… not panic… Calelon," Thranduil heaved a great shaky breath as he regained himself, "I merely rolled my eyes forgetting that they have been all but scorched by that accursed worm. I am well do not worry."
The healer made a disapproving noise, "That little habit of yours will need to be put on hold for now Aran-nin."
Calelon rested his hand upon Thranduil's brow and the King suddenly felt ten times sleepier as Calelon sent a gentle current of healing energy through him and greatly eased his pain. This time Thranduil surrendered to the feeling completely and allowed pain free sleep to wash over him.
Flames. Flames were everywhere and no matter which direction, which corner, which nook or cranny Thranduil turned to flee in he could not escape them.
Some a brighter orange, others much darker, they leapt round him in a wild dance determined to devour him whole. Determined to incinerate him. Thranduil saw the smallest of gaps and ran hard for it, twisting and turning this way and that as the flames all shot out toward him desperate to reach him, to set him alight. Still Thranduil ran – he could see his maethyr, his army – just there, just through there, just a little more and he would make it. He could hear their voices – crying out for him, calling him back to them – back to flame free safety. He was almost there….
Suddenly with an almighty crash his way was blocked and the elven King could no longer see his elves; instead there were flames in the mammoth shape of a dragon burning brightly and wickedly. Thranduil felt his heart sink as he looked round frantically for any opening, any way of escape. But there was none – the long, flame wreathed, serpentine body of the leering beast had encircled him completely and the elven King felt despair, dread and horror roll though him in wave after sickening wave.
The flame dragon gave a horrid, sneering smile then opened its mouth wide – directly aimed at the elven King.
"Sîdh, sîdh Oropherion. Nothing can harm you here, you are well in your Halls and you are safe. Come now awaken and leave the nightmares behind."
Gandalf placed a cool hand upon the elven King's sweat soaked brow – one of the few parts of him not swathed in bandages – as he tried to coax Thranduil awake. It was clear he was caught in some nightmarish vison.
"Awake, awake Oropherion, awake and see that you are on the battle field no longer. Come now."
Gandalf pushed a small wave of calming energy through the hand on Thranduil's brow and heaved a sigh of relief as the King at last seemed to awaken. Gandalf kept up the little stream of energy until he saw that Thranduil's breathing had evened out and was gentle again – no longer the great heaving, panicked breaths he'd been taking.
"M…Mith…randir?" Thranduil's voice sounded weak and it cracked in places due to disuse and dehydration.
"Yes it is I Oropherion, now remain perfectly still," Gandalf placed a gentle hand on Thranduil's chest to stop the weak struggles of the King to sit up. "Remain still – do not try to move and undo all the good work Calelon has done."
"Ca..le..lon?" Thranduil rasped and Gandalf frowned at the state of the elven King's usually strong and commanding voice.
The Istar left the King's side, went over to the large sideboard and poured out a small glass of water, "You sound in dire need of a drink Oropherion."
Thranduil made no reply, only turned his head ever so slightly toward the wizard and Gandalf decided to take that as agreement. The Istar rested the glass upon the bedside table closer to Thranduil and then slowly and cautiously began the rather difficult task of manoeuvring the King so that he was no longer laid flat on his back but instead in a more upwards position that would enable him to drink the much needed water.
It was certainly a delicate task that required numerous pillows and the utmost care. Calelon had left Gandalf in charge after finally being persuaded to take some much needed rest and Gandalf was determined that Thranduil would not have a relapse under his care. Still, despite his best efforts every inch that Gandalf moved Thranduil - slowly propping him up with pillow after pillow - saw the elven King stiffen in pain or give a soft agonised gasp.
It took seemingly forever for Gandalf to get Thranduil into a low sitting up position and by then Thranduil was panting hard, breath coming in harsh, pained gasps.
"Sorry, I am sorry that it hurts so much Thranduil," Gandalf rested his hand on the panting ellon's brow and sent another wave of healing energy into him. "Here, you can have a drink now."
That too turned into another long, agonised task as most of the water splashed uselessly down past chapped lips unable to properly function on the left side. Gandalf realised then his mistake but it was too late – Thranduil was already caught in another wave of pain as the cold water soaked through his bandages and onto his still raw and wounded skin which sent sharp jolts of pain through him.
Gandalf had been hard pressed then to get the elven King to stay still rather than writhe in agony; the task was only accomplished in the end due to the aid of the Istar's rapidly dwindling healing energy.
At last Gandalf prepared another glass and moved back the King's bedside.
"Right Oropherion – your drink. I promise not to bathe you with it this time round."
"Hn," Thranduil gave a small grunt but his lips were quirked up into the very tiniest of smiles and Gandalf felt himself relax.
It hurt to see his long-time friend (and verbal sparring partner) laid so low in agony and Gandalf had been mortified to be the cause of further pain; so to see Thranduil's dry sense of humour was still intact was met with relief by the Istar.
"Right…" Gandalf mumbled more to himself that the ellon before him. The wizard dipped a spoon into the cold and now drugged laced water and began the task of easing his friend's thirst.
Thranduil let himself be spoon fed the cool, refreshing water that his parched throat had been crying out for. It was a huge indignity of course but he had no choice but to suffer through it; being spoon fed was far better than trying to make his useless lips work properly and risking another dousing of painfully cold water.
The elven King could still feel the slight sting of it despite Mithrandir's healing efforts yet he made no mention of it for he knew the wizard felt badly for having caused him pain. So Thranduil simply made light of it, going so far as to dredge up a small smile to put Mithrandir at ease.
The cool metal of the spoon against his lips was Thranduil's signal to open his mouth again and he did so mechanically trusting Mithrandir to not spill it over him despite the earlier mishap.
Truth be told Thranduil's mind still reeled and was struggling to free itself from the memory of his fiery nightmare and he only paid half a mind to what was happening. The memory of the huge flame wreathed beast of his dreams was proving difficult to shake off and Thranduil was glad for the bandages that covered his eyes. Glad for the peace and privacy they afforded him as he tried to forget his rather terrifying dream. Perhaps he would be best off not sleeping for a little while lest the nightmare returned with a vengeance.
Yes, Thranduil decided – he would get Mithrandir to read to him for a bit once they were done to help take his mind off his dark dreams and relax him.
Almost as if on cue Mithrandir spoke up, "Just a little more and you will have finished the cup Oropherion. I would offer you more for I know you are thirsty but Calelon warned me not to give you too much too fast to begin with."
"Hn," Thranduil gave the small non-committal grunt that was his only pain free way of communicating. He would save his breath for asking Mithrandir to read to him.
After another few spoonfulls Thranduil felt a dense fog creep up on him from all corners of his mind. His head felt decidedly fuzzy and his body as though it were about to float right off the bed. The King puzzled this out for a minute or three growing increasingly frustrated as he just could not seem to keep hold of one thought before it slipped straight into another. It was most befuddling not to mention aggravating and soon Thranduil struggled to remember what he was trying to figure out in the first place.
He remembered only as the creeping fog in his mind began to affect his ability to keep his eyes open and then it hit him in a brilliant flash of sudden clarity.
Drugged. Mithrandir had drugged the water and intended to send Thranduil right back to sleep – the very thing the elven King did not wish to do so soon after his night terror.
Yet it was too late. Thranduil's eyes were now like leaden weights and as they slammed closed he knew he would not be able to open them again for some time. The fuzzy fog in his head grew all the thicker and unable to even berate the wizard for drugging him Thranduil slipped helplessly back into his sleep induced world of torture, gore and fire clad serpents.
Gandalf let the spoon drop with a clang into the now empty glass and eased himself back into his seat. His fingers twitched with the urge for his pipe. He had not had a smoke since he had first arrived in the Woodland realm and now that the fatigue that came with excessive use of his healing powers slowly crept up on him the Istar longed for a nice, deep drag on his pipe.
The urge would have to wait though until Calelon returned to watch over the now peacefully slumbering elven King.
Gandalf felt bad for taking the easy way out for both of them and drugging Thranduil back into oblivion but… Valar! It was so hard to watch the way the pain of the slowly healing injuries tormented Thranduil. Everything seemed to cause him pain – even the very bandages that were supposed to help seemed to cause the great King discomfort as they put pressure on his burns.
Nay Gandalf had been unable to face the rest of his watch over Thranduil knowing he would be in nothing but agony and had decided putting him to sleep would be kinder to them both. The wizard only hoped that this time round Thranduil would be sparred any nightmares.
Gandalf studied the nearly completely bandage wrapped ellon before him and sighed.
"Tough watch Mithrandir?"
Gandalf startled and turned to face the culprit with a small frown, "You really ought to stop sneaking about so much Calelon." The Istar harrumphed and glared when the other smiled back at him.
"Aran Thranduil has told me much the same."
"Well then you should heed him and stop walking round as silently as though you were a mere ghost," Gandalf grumbled annoyed at the fact he had all but fallen out of his chair with fright.
"I am sorry Mithrandir truly – it is never my intention to scare anyone – this is just how I walk. Silently."
Gandalf only tutted and made a disparaging remark about elves as he gathered his robes and stood more than ready to find some quiet elf free corner in which to smoke his pipe in peace.
The wizard turned to face the Royal healer, "To answer your question – yes. It was a bit of a difficult watch." Gandalf pulled out his pipe and stuck it in his mouth as he rummaged round in his deep pockets for his small bag of pipe weed.
"Oh how so?" Calelon inquired, anxious to hear what had caused the Istar to sigh so heavily and forlornly a few moments before.
Gandalf at last located the small bag in one of his numerous pockets and held it out triumphantly before his face fell as he focussed on Calelon's question. "Well to start with he had a nightmare…"
Calelon listened silently as Gandalf recounted his watch over the King.
"I see," Calelon frowned down at the sleeping King. "Well you have my deepest gratitude Mithrandir for watching over him for me but now I must get to work. I need to develop a stronger painkiller for when next the King awakens – after all we cannot keep him in a drugged slumber forever. I need to make something strong enough to keep his pain at bay without putting him to sleep."
Gandalf nodded and began to shuffle out of the room – he was really feeling the effects of having used such large quantities of his power in such a short span of time and even going off for a quick smoke now looked like more effort than it was worth. Perhaps he would just head for his bed.
"Peaceful watch Calelon."
"Thank you," the Royal healer held the door to the private room open for him and Gandalf nodded gratefully.
Gandalf looked behind him wearily.
"Could you please send Aiwendil my way? His knowledge of herb lore would be most helpful."
Gandalf nodded and trudged off as the door clicked shut behind him. He really wanted – no needed - his bed; not to go tracking down Radagast. Yet he knew Calelon was right – no one knew herbs and their medicinal purposes better than the brown wizard. Together the two would most definitely be able to concoct something that would save Thranduil from the anguish he had had to face today and the thought gave Gandalf new energy.
If the end result was Thranduil no longer feebly writhing and hissing in pain then he could easily push aside his exhaustion.
The Istar put his pouch of pipe weed and his pipe back into his pockets mournfully as he trudged down the long winding corridor. He hadn't even the faintest idea where to find Radagast. The brown wizard was something of an enigma and completely a law unto himself. Gandalf hadn't seen him for hours and drew a blank for any ideas as to where his fellow might be in the sprawling palace.
Aha! He had spotted a way to find Radagast.
Gandalf stopped near a shadowy corner and peered into it, "You there - young Thranduilion – I have seen you so you may as well come out."
"H-how did you see me Mithrandir?" The young Prince Legolas poked his head fully out of the secret door he had been hiding behind.
"I am an Istar Thranduilion – that's how. Now come lest a guard or Calelon find you skulking about and you get into trouble." Gandalf grinned at the young ellon, "I have a task for you."
"I am already in trouble so it makes no difference to me. I think I shall stay here thanks."
Legolas crossed his arms and pouted a little; he was here to see his Adar not to go off on some wizard's wild goose chase. After the few hours of crying and being upset Legolas had decided to try and see his Adar once more and had snuck out of his rooms where he was supposed to be studying and used the secret passage ways to make it up to his Adar's private rooms in the healing wing. It had all been going so smoothly until Mithrandir had accosted him. Curse the sharp eyes of wizards.
Still the blonde Prince had made it this far and wasn't about to give up now, "Truly I'd love to help Mithrandir but I need to see my Adar – it has been far too long since I have seen him and I must know the truth."
Legolas immediately bit his lip and swiftly averted his suddenly stinging eyes. He had said far too much.
He was not nearly fast enough however for the Istar had caught sight of the deep emotion that swirled in the young elf's eyes.
"Calelon will not let you through Thranduilion. Have you not already tried this? Why do you think this time will be different?"
Legolas blinked his eyes rapidly to get rid of the traitorous tears that threatened and turned his back to the wizard. Deep down he knew the gentle words Mithrandir spoke were right – Calelon would not permit him to see his Adar.
Legolas blinked again and made to brush past the grey wizard, "I need to see him Mithrandir…or at the very least force Calelon to tell me the truth."
Mithrandir's surprisingly strong arm shot out and held him fast in an iron grip effectively stopping Legolas in his tracks.
"Don't make a scene Thranduilion – you know Calelon will tell you nothing nor will you get in through the doors. You will only cause a great deal of fuss and disturb your Adar who needs all his rest." The wizard gave the young Prince a gentle tug on the arm so that the blonde faced him again. "Help me and I will help you."
Legolas' head snapped up then and he stared hard at the wizard. "What do you mean Mithrandir?"
"My task – help me with it and I shall tell you all I know about your Adar – the whole truth and nothing but the truth may the Valar themselves help me."
Legolas gazed at the wizard – would Mithrandir truly tell him what he longed to know? And more than that would he tell the truth and not just sugar coat things?
Legolas voiced his doubts, "I mean no disrespect Mithrandir but why would you help me? All the other adults have done their best to keep me in the dark about Adar. Why would you tell me what they are desperate to hide?"
Legolas trained his bright blue gaze unwaveringly on the Istar who did not so much as flinch under the heavy (even for child) elven gaze.
"I will tell you because you deserve to know," Gandalf stated simply. It was true; the wizard did feel that the way the young elf had been kept in the dark was a bit cruel – he was old enough now to know the truth about his Adar especially since the King was now out of the immediate danger of heading into Mandos.
Legolas felt the tension drain from him at the wizard's simple admission and he gestured to the wizard, "Ok then…thank you Mithrandir. What is your task?"
The wizard gave him a small soft smile and pulled Legolas further under his arm in an almost one-handed hug.
"I need you to find Aiwendil for me," Gandalf used Radagast's elvish name uncertain if Legolas would know the other.
Legolas raised a neat eyebrow. "Is that all? For some reason I had thought your task would be difficult Mithrandir."
Gandalf shot the Prince that he still held close a glare and harrumphed. "I'll have you know Thranduilion that finding my brown counterpart is no mean feat. Especially not in this labyrinth you elves call a palace."
Legolas gave the other a cheeky grin before he slipped from under the wizards arm and out of his loose (and rather comforting) embrace.
"The palace is truly not that difficult to navigate Mithrandir…well if you have any sense of direction at all that is…" The Prince paused to dodge a cuff to the ears, "but besides all that Aiwendil is not even in the palace. Come, come Mithrandir I'll take you straight to him."
Legolas grabbed hold of the wizard's grey sleeve and tugged him back into the shadowy corner from whence he came – into the secret passage ways.
"Where are you taking me Thranduilion? Don't you know better than to drag an Istar? And where is Aiwendil if he is not in the palace?"
Legolas gave another cheeky grin before he pulled Gandalf into the dark passage and slipped the false panel shut behind them.
"Aiwendil is with his most precious rabbits of course – in the stables. Honestly Mithrandir, he has been there morning, noon, night and any time he has not been needed by Calelon. How could you not have noticed?"
Gandalf gave Legolas a gentle whack with his staff, "Don't be impertinent elfling…just lead on in this accursed darkness."
"Oh sorry Mithrandir – here I have a torch if you need me to light it. I forgot that you do not have elven sight."
Legolas tried not to snicker when the Istar snatched the lit torch from him grumbling all the while about rabbits, silly brown wizards and cheeky elflings. The Prince fell completely silent then – he really did not want to aggravate Mithrandir too much – he wanted him to tell him all about his Adar.
Legolas glanced behind him with the most apologetic look he could muster on his face. "I'm sorry Mithrandir – don't be too annoyed with me. I'll take you straight to Aiwendil via these tunnels; we shall be there in no time at all. These secret passageways are quite a quick means of travel…also I'm not really supposed to have left my room."
Legolas gave another look back, this time with the tiniest of smiles and eyes that begged the wizard to keep his secret.
"Come Mithrandir – we want to take this next right."
Gandalf only smiled at the young elf's antics; he was not really annoyed with the youngster. He actually quite liked the Prince's youthful, jovial disposition. Gandalf could see though that those smiles did not quite reach Legolas' eyes at the moment. The smiles were forced in order to distract from the maelstrom of emotions that could be seen in the young one's eyes.
Gandalf frowned a little as he kept pace behind the child as Legolas continued to lead the way through the maze like passageways. The wizard was feeling rather annoyed with the Prince's current carers. Could they not see that instead of easing his worries over his Adar they had increased them tenfold by denying the boy the truth and thus allowing his no doubt overactive imagination to run wild?
Gandalf took a deep breath. He was in no doubt that the elves in question would accuse him of meddling in their affairs once they found out what he was about to do but he did not do it out of malice. He was only trying to do right by Legolas and the boy needed this. Needed to hear the truth and have his wildest fears put to bed.
Gandalf took another bracing breath – he would tell all to Legolas but he would leave out the part about the King's potential blindness. That tale ought to be reserved for Thranduil to tell and him alone.
"Right young Thranduilion – I shall tell you about your Adar now whilst we are quiet and private in this maze - …"
"Here we are Mithrandir."
Legolas made a small gesture to the grey wizard and ushered him out into the sunlit stable yard. Aiwendil was in plain sight fussing over his rabbits as Legolas had predicted. Mithrandir bid him thanks before giving him a clap of the shoulder and a meaningful look.
"Remember what I said Thranduilion – your Adar is on the road to recovery and though it will be long and hard you need fear for his life no longer. Let your mind and your heart be at ease now."
Legolas nodded, forced his brightest smile and gave a limp wave goodbye as the grey wizard turned to deal with his brown companion.
The young Price let the stone sliding door swing easily and silently back in place glad that none of the stable hands had been about and he had remained unseen.
For that was exactly how he wished to remain just now. Unseen and left quite alone to process the news he had been given. The news he had so longed to hear, the news he had been so sure he could handle.
Dragons. Nasty and greedy and pure slithering malevolence.
Fire. Hot and bright and full of spiteful evil.
Burns. Pain and torture and lifelong disfiguring scars.
Legolas felt his legs shake a little and unable to stop himself he slid down to the ground as he began to tremble violently.
Legolas had been sure that the adults had been being hurtful toward him –treating him like a mere elfling. The Prince had been sure he could handle it all.
But oh how wrong he was. So, so very wrong; and Legolas hated it. Hated that they had been right about him being too young to hear all the gory details.
More than anything however he hated the images that flashed round and round and round in his mind.
Destruction. Dragons. Death.
Legolas brought a shaking arm around his knees and curled himself into a ball. He should have listened; he should have listened to them all. Rithel, Thanniel and Lord Arahaelon. He should never have pushed so hard to hear the full gory truth and oh how he wished he hadn't now.
Flames. Fear. Fire.
Legolas dropped his head down to his knees and cried hard over all his Adar had suffered and the horrifying images that would now never leave him.
Ellon – Male elf
Adar – Father
Ernil-nin / Ernil – My Prince / Prince
Sîdh – Peace
Aran-nin/Aran - My King/King
Istar – Quenya for Wizard
Maethyr – (plural) Warriors
A/N: My deepest apologies for the mega late update. Loss of inspiration attacked and I then managed to injure both my wrists which led to very slow going once I did manage to grab hold of the plot bunny. So mea culpa, mea culpa and thank you for sticking with me on this one. For those reading Friendship Amidst Loss – it's all plotted out its just the typing that is slow going at the moment (it hurts) – but I'll get the next chapter to you as soon as I can.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.