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Chapter Text

Thranduil stood in the dimly lit doorway and knew he should turn away, because he would wake his son otherwise and Legolas needed his sleep as much as every other warrior of his realm. The darkness spread again and they were doing everything they could to push it back, even if it meant running themselves ragged.
The last elven king east of the sea knew he acted selfish with every second he lingered, watching his son and breathing in the knowledge that he was safe for tonight. The first night for a month he actually slept in a proper bed without being threatened directly from their enemy.
He knew he should turn around and go to his own room, but the sight of Legolas rooted him to this spot. His son had obviously fallen asleep while reading a book, probably to stay awake long enough so they could actually see each other after such a long time spend in the woods. And so he lingered, but he would go soon. Only one more moment.

When he was able to turn around and made the first step in the direction of his own rooms, he heard Legolas’ sleepy voice calling out for him and turned around with a sight, he had lingered to long.
His son sat on top of the blankets, legs crossed and rubbed some sleep out of his eyes in an very un-prince-like manner, before he turned around with such a happy smile that Thranduil thought his heart might burst any second.

“Ada” he exclaimed, voice rough with exhaustion. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep until you came back, but it seemed this book isn’t as fascinating as Galion promised it to be.” He glared at the book as if it had personally and intentionally betrayed him before he turned back to his father. “How was your day? Galion said something about the people of Dale being unreasonable again?”

Thranduil snorted at that, something most of the elves didn’t even think him capable of and sending Legolas in a merry fit of laughter even before he muttered something about unintelligent and megalomaniac humans and butlers turned into advisors over the years which are to good mannered and diplomatic for their own good.

He knew he should go, leaving his beloved son to get some much needed rest, he could feel his tiredness even if he tried to hide it, could feel the bone deep exhaustion maybe not even sleep could help against. He felt the same in his own bones; the weight of a crown was a heavy one. And so he sat down next to him on the bed and they talked, shared memories of lighter days, merrier thoughts and good things.
But he knew he should have never stopped at his son’s open door this night.

When Galion entered the shared living space of the two royals the next morning he was a little bit irritated to find both bedroom doors open. Because of their different schedules the both of them had decided centuries ago that a closed door meant that the inhabitant was asleep or, most of the times, trying to sleep and so won’t be disturbed by anyone.
And so he stood quite lost in front of the two open doors, because Legolas had told him minutes ago that Thranduil was still asleep and he had to go again, but checked if he probably was able to say goodbye personally after he had left the bed two hours before sunrise to check in with the incoming patrols and Lord Berion; before he send four others and his own patrol including himself out into the forest again. But he hadn’t been able to say goodbye because his was father was still asleep, but he had left a note without disturbing or waking him.
Galions frown deepened as his gaze fell upon Thranduils clearly untouched bed. No King, no note from the Prince, not a single crease in the sheets and a suspicion came to his mind. He walked the short distance to Legolas room on tiptoes, smiling softly at the sight that greeted him there.
The proud elven King laid curled on his side, facing the spot Legolas had occupied for the night, eyes glazed over in sleep and a soft smile on his lips. A blanket was covering him in a way that indicated Legolas had done this before he left with as much care as possible to not disturb his father’s much needed rest.

Galion smiled and did not linger, he retreated immediately to not wake him, closing the door silently behind him.

The weight of a crown was a heavy one, but sometimes this burden got much lighter when it was shared. Even if its bearer wasn’t aware of it and slept peacefully through that small amount of time his family and friends squared their shoulders and did not linger to make this happen.

Chapter Text

„Try to stay awake, don‘t move.”
Hands flattered over his body, ripping away some fabric and then a hearty curse followed by more soft words. “You have to breathe even if it hurts; rest as much as you can and save your strength, you will need it before the reinforcement arrives.”
If the reinforcement arrives would have been a statement much more adequate but Legolas didn’t felt like pointing that out, the elf in front of him knew their situation just as good as he did and so there wasn’t any need to waste his breath. His whole side burned and he tried to bat the probing hands away only to make everything worse and closed his eyes for a moment to regain his composure.
“Don’t move and be quiet, they haven’t found us yet and I would appreciate it if they would see us rather later than sooner. And now hold still, this will hurt.”

Legolas wasn’t even given the chance to answer or prepare himself before hot white pain exploded in his side and his body tensed with the agony it felt. He didn’t make a sound but tried to move away, but there were more hands holding him in place, a voice murmuring soft words into his ear, even if he wasn’t able to understand a single word. He didn’t know how long it took, but the pain retreated to a manageable level eventually and he sunk exhausted against the trunk of the great oak tree giving them shelter, while the hands holding him down retreated. He felt a wave of soothing wash over him, send from their momentary host and felt a pair of hands on his cheeks a second before a familiar voice begun to speak.
“You’re with us? I know I told you to be quiet, but this is a little bit to quiet, even for my liking.”
Legolas blinked his eyes open with much more effort than such a simple task should need and glared halfheartedly at his friend. Laeron snorted at his feebly attempt, green eyes twinkling with amusement. “Oh and you were right by the way.”
The attempt of a glare turned into confusion at those words.
“The spider hadn’t stung you, but the ‘mere scratch’ in your side would be better described as a gash, a deep and long one and definitely poisoned, too. We are out of antivenom as you should remember so I put some of that awful salve on it, that should help for you until we got back to the stronghold or help arrives.”
Legolas nodded, already feeling more aware than at the beginning of their hushed conversation. Laeron seemed to see that and his shoulders relaxed a fraction.
“Stay here for another moment, catch your breath but don’t fall asleep. They couldn’t be far now and will catch up soon.”

They both knew the effects of spider poison and the antivenom, equally in which form given and so Legolas wordlessly raised the arm of his uninjured side to be helped to his feet. Laeron sighted and grabbed his longtime friend under the shoulders to lift him up, rather than pull him into a standing position before he decided to do it by himself. The blond elf paled visibly but hold his footing and gave a tight nod, when a deeper breath hadn’t him doubling over in pain. It still hurt, but it wouldn’t hinder him much in the coming fight.
Laeron loosened his grip and put a few more arrows into his quiver, wherever he had found them.

“I hope you agree with me if I tell you to stay in the trees for this fight?” The dark haired elf asked as they both heard the first whistles of warning from their returning scouts, meaning the Orcs following them were near. Legolas nodded as three more elves dropped on the branches next to them, they were all equally disheveled, injured and exhausted. They were the last remaining five out of 14 that had set out three month ago for a patrol to the south. They should have been back two weeks ago but had found more enemies than they feared for and three of them had left for Mandos halls. One had died on Legolas hands because it had been the only chance to safe his soul, they had tried to get him back, but with Dol Guldur so near they weren’t successful. It was the only chance to spare him endless agony and so his arrow had flown true, only a short distance away from the darkest part of the forest. They had retreated quite hurried after that, because the Orcs had been furious about losing their price such a short distance away from home.
The remaining elves had tried to be as silent and fast as possible but their luck run out and they lost two more and got another two so gravely injured that they had decided to split up. Sending six of them on the fastest way back to the stronghold and made a distraction out of themselves to let the others escape unnoticed. Their plan worked out until they were incautious for a moment, noticing the nest of spiders to late and giving the Orcs time to catch up while they fought another enemy. Even with all spiders killed the small company of elves was absolutely outnumbered and their only chance was to stay hidden in the trees and outmaneuver them in an ambush, hoping that the other six had made it back in time and send reinforcements soon.

They positioned themselves in the thick foliage of the trees, unseen to the eyes of the dark creatures on the forest floor. It would be much easier to hide if they were unhurt and a much greater distance away from the stronghold, but neither was the case. The Orcs could smell their blood and were too close to the borders of their realm to let them go any further. They only had to last a little bit longer and they would do everything in their might to distract them long enough. They were five against about eighty Orcs and a dozen Wargs, and definitely without enough arrows to kill them all from their hidden position in the trees. They stood unmoving, arrows knocked, waiting for the signal to fire, to make their last stand for this wracked journey south.

The first Warg-riders past them without noticing and they let the creatures move past them. The stomping of heavy feet and the cruel sounds of their guttural speech blocked every other sound from the forest and they waited until Legoslas’ low whistle sounded as the last of the creatures were about to disappear behind the trees. As one five arrows flew and hit with deadly force. They were able to repeat that two more times before the remaining Orcs noticed anything and turned around to fight the unseen danger. But as the elves had anticipated they were unorganized since their leaders were riding at the front and had yet to come back to took over command.
But the first two elves had run out of arrows already and were changing positions in case any orcish archer had seen were the arrows had come from. Laeron dropped silently down next to Legolas, who didn’t so much as glance shortly at his friend to make sure he was unhurt, only to see the other elf putting six more arrows in his quiver, before focusing back on the black mass below.
“We are all out of arrows and going down.” With that he vanished again to drop down on the forest floor moments later, knifes already drawn and the other three following only the blink of an eye later.
Legolas watched from above using his last arrows wisely to safe his friends and didn’t waste a single thought in staying hidden in the trees as his quiver was empty. He dropped down in time to burry one of his knifes in the neck of an Orc who had tried to do the same with Laeron, the impact sending a wave of pain through his battered body. The green eyed warrior turned around and glared at his prince. "I told you to stay in the trees!”
“Out of arrows” Legolas replied and ducked under a scimitar swung in his direction and then there wasn’t any time for conversation. They tried to stay together as good as they were able to and shield each other’s backs, but it wasn’t an easy task. The floor around them was littered with dead Orcs and one of the Wargs, the elves were covered in black blood and sporting several injuries of their own when they could hear a lone bird call. No ordinary bird call, but the sign that reinforcement wasn’t far away and this gave them the strength to hold on a little bit longer until the first arrows flew out of the trees, decreasing the number of Orcs considerably. And while the arrows kept flying, more elves joined the five on the floor, knives and swords making their way through orcish armor and filthy fur.

-----

Legolas blinked dark spots from his vision while he looked around for any elven body on the ground but saw none and relief washed over him.
He spotted Laeron talking to Maedor, the Captain of the patrol which had joined them in their fight and made his unsteady way towards them. Before he felt himself swaying there was a steading hand at his elbow and he blinked rapidly until Maedors concerned face swam into focus. But before he could say something the elf in front of him did. “You look rough and you are late. Two things you can explain yourself to your father.”
Legolas would have groaned but he thought that to be too much effort, now that the adrenalin of the battle was fading every single one of his senses screamed at him with hurt from the poison, the cuts and bruises received during their fights made themselves known and sore muscles protested every movement. He felt ready to pass out and sleep for a week or two, he wasn’t picky about the amount of time, as long as it was undisturbed.
He felt another pair of hands peeling away the blood soaked tunic where it stuck to the long gash in his side and flinched away only to hear Laeron tutting at him somewhere between annoyed and concerned. “It’s me and it looks worse.”
Maedron twisted and turned to get a better look and whistled lowly. “That indeed doesn’t look so good; I would say we split up. Some of the warriors will stay here and burn the corpses while the rest of us escort the five of you back home.”
He saw the weary expressions of his friends and added in a softer tone: “It isn’t like splitting a group of eleven while being chased. You are safe, our people are safe thanks to you. We are enough for this task and the trees will tell us when something is amiss.”

It was already getting dark when they reached the stronghold and the five of them breathed in relief. This would be their first night in safety since three month ago and they all felt like dropping on the spot. Legolas dismissed his three remaining archers with the flick of his hand and turned his apologetic gaze to Laeron before he began to limp away and calledd over his shoulder: “I need you for a few more minutes, we need to scribble down the important things before I report to the king and then you can rest.”

Laeron groaned. “We shouldn’t have given him the anti-venom. We shouldn’t have. Really. Now he will pretend he is fine until it wears off and he collapses somewhere while writing reports or thinking about new patrol plans. We should have been a lot wiser than this.”
Maedor slung his arm over the slightly smaller elf and began to move him inside. “Believe me, he won’t get a chance for that. I knew three people which aren’t amused above your delay or the report the other half of your patrol gave them.”
Laeron smirked, he could guess whom exactly his friend was referring to and maybe he could even spare some pity for Legolas when it was time to face them, but right know they had lost him out of their sight and hurried inside.
They found him in one of the common rooms, the Captains had appropriated as theirs a long time ago, standing on the big table in the middle of the room holding a large map of their woods and its surroundings. Hands propped up on the surface, long blond hair hiding his face but they knew he was frowning, eyebrows drawn together and lips moving silently. He hadn’t let go of his weapons and Laeron himself felt uneasy to do so, even if he knew he was safe inside their mountain home.
“Okay, let’s get done with this. You two need food, healers, sleep and a bath. Not necessarily in this order but I think we shouldn’t waste our time with things that could very well wait until tomorrow. And put your weapons away, you won’t need them anymore.” Maedor stated and put his own weapons aside even if they were within easy reach, Laeron followed his advice hesitantly and Legolas ignored them both in favor of mapping out their patrol and everything they had learned.

No one disturbed them and they had wrapped up everything important within an hour, the detailed report would have to wait until tomorrow or the day after tomorrow, Laeron wasn’t even sure it was still today and thinking about it was beyond his ability for the moment. Maedor seemed to notice this and grabbed his arm while gesturing one of his warriors inside.
“I will bring Laeron to the healers, you escort Legolas to the king and to the healing wards after that only the king told you otherwise.”
The dark haired elf nodded and followed his prince out of the room while Laeron looked quizzically at his friend. “You know that this poor soul is no match for him if he wants to vanish, don’t you?”
“Yes, I am indeed quite aware of that, but you are more likely to pass out any second and so I will join them after I brought you to someone who takes care of your wounds before that happens.”

Legolas strode through the corridors without taking notice of his surroundings or his worn out appearance. He had left his bloodied outer tunic in the Captains room, wearing an equally bloodied shirt now but it was much cleaner than the tunic had been otherwise. He felt tired and the anti-venom was wearing off, leaving him in more pain than he would admit. His body needed rest so badly by now that it was a conscious act to keep going and stay upright as he stood in front of the throne, facing his father. Gaze focused somewhere to a spot over his left shoulder, reporting what was necessary and handing over the report as he had finished. He could feel his father’s heavy gaze on him, the same with Galion and Berion. He hadn’t looked at the last two but could sense them, concern radiating off of them in waves. He was shaking slightly by now and hoped his father won’t notice at the same time he hoped he would and dismiss him.
“Thank you, Captain. I await your detailed report in a few days and now get some rest and let the healers see to your wounds.”
Legolas bowed shortly and made his way out of the room without looking back. How he had missed his father and truth to be told he wanted nothing more than go back and let himself be enfolded and comforted in his strong arms. But he can’t, because they had to be king and Captain for now, not father and son. He could feel the trees and his father reaching out for him, soothing his troubled mind. He felt darkness take hold of him but couldn’t allow that to happen right here in front of so many others, even if it was late there were a lot of advisors here and a few unknown faces, which meant a delegation of some other realm, he wasn’t able to figure out which in his current state. He needed to get away as fast as possible and didn’t recognized Maedors hand at his elbow and the small of his back until the other elf began to whisper into his ear. “It is me, don’t worry, focus on my voice, you can rest soon, Laeron is already fast asleep and your father will see you later when you are settled.” He listened to his friends soft murmured words until they reached their destination and then darkness took him away to blessed oblivion.

-----

When he woke everything felt heavy and he was still beyond tired. Darkness surrounded him and ever so slowly his senses came back. He could hear voices talking quietly next to him and felt the warmth of a soft blanket around him and in no particular hurry to wake any further. He drifted in this semi-conscious space for a while longer, totally contempt with it for the time being and was about to go back to sleep when he must have made a sound or shown any other sign of waking because the voices stopped immediately, before he could feel a hand on his cheek and a low voice whispering into his ear. “Go back to sleep, do not wake. You are safe, your patrol is safe, the injured survived, you need more rest. Sleep.”
And so he did.

The next time he woke it wasn’t like the last time. His body hurt and didn’t dared to even try to move but he felt more alert and it was only a short discussion with his heavy eyelids, that up was as good a position as down. He blinked a few times to get the world into focus and was greeted with the sight of a pair of green eyes and a wide smile.
“There you are! You slept for days princeling. For days. I don’t know how you want to explain this to your father or Lord Berion or Galion but I am glad you are still able to explain yourself. You had us worried for a while.”
Then there was a cup of cool water at his lips and he drank some, coughing as it was a little bit too much. Laeron put the cup away and propped him up some more.
“Don’t drown him. I think the healers won’t appreciate that after all the work they put into him over the last couple of days.”
Legolas coughed some more and turned his head around to see Maedor and Gelir leaning casually in the doorway. The former speaking between bites of his apple, the latter looking like he had come back only a short while ago, hair still damp from a bath and sweeping concerned eyes over him. He seemed satisfied and Legolas guessed that he hadn’t seen him since he had forced the anti-venom down his throat on a clearing full of dead orcs and stayed behind to burn them and made sure no others were following.
The blonde prince relaxed further, they were home, safe and together. There were few things more important to him, than the three elves surrounding him right now. All healthy and unhurt, chatting and joking about one thing or another. The sight of a paper loaded chair next to his bed told him that his father or Galion, probably both, had stayed with him while he slept and would return soon. He smiled to himself, as long as they were together the darkness from Dol Guldur won’t defeat them, they would stand united against every evil the dark Lord sent into their direction. They would protect their trees and their people as they already had for centuries, with or without help didn’t matter.
“What’s on your mind princeling?” Laeron asked, sensing the heavy but content mood of his friend. Legolas eyes twinkled with mischief and he send his friends into fits of laughter as he asked innocently, when he was allowed to get out of the bed again because he felt already bored.

Chapter Text

Legolas had one knee on the floor, twin knives raised above his head, each one blocking a sword, arms shaking with the effort to hold them up. Chest heaving with each breath which didn’t seemed to get enough air into his burning lungs; sweat soaked tunic clinging to his battered body. His eyes were downcast, not looking at his opponents, probably because it took every ounce of his strength left to stay upright.

Thranduil added a little bit more weight to his sword, forcing Legolas knife back a little bit further at the same time Berion did so with the other knife and his own sword. His son sucked in another hard fought breath and Thranduil thought he looked ready to pass out any second, but he did so for hours and was still on his feet. His troubled mind far stronger than his body and he feared that they had to stop this soon, for his own sake.

“I think it is enough, Thranduilion.” Berions incredible soft voice said only seconds after Thranduils own thought to end this. He knew that tone of voice and what the use of this name meant. How often had his lifelong friend had approached him like that, with his father’s name on his lips? It had been too many times to still be countable.
He had called him Oropherion after the many losses they had endured together, so much grief shared, but they had never abandoned each other or their people and had cared for each other. Legolas knew that, too and Thranduil hold his breath. This was the first time he was called by his father’s name in such a gentle and caring manner. He had indeed been rebuked with it; heated arguments between these two elves so dear to him had ended with his son being called this, because he had overstepped a dangerous line that couldn’t be tolerated but was inevitable to avoid when you train not only a prince but a great warrior, a Captain, too.
But he had never been cared for like this and he lowered his twin knives of his own doing a little bit more and Thranduil felt himself relax a fraction, he reacted as he should, as Thranduil himself did when called Oropherion in that tone, stopping whatever he was doing, listening and sharing the weight of whatever had happened, letting himself be taken care of.
But he was wrong, with incredible speed and more strength he should have left he forced himself to his feet again, leaving them both no other chance than to spring back a short distance when he attacked instantly in a flurry of movements too fast for all but elven eyes to follow.

Thranduils arm rattled as he wasn’t fast enough to avoid a hit with both knives, but it was probably worth it, because with both knives directed at him, Berion would be able to end this; hopefully without hurting his son. But Legolas wasn’t defeated easily and the King glared at his friend as they stood side by side a few moments later, waiting for the next attack.

“I have never been more annoyed with your training then at this very moment” he declared and got an unimpressed look from the other warrior.
“You are only annoyed that he is already nearly as good as we are and will be much better than the both of us together when this cursed age ends” he replied and then, as Legolas began to move again. “You will definitely not like what I do now.”
Thranduil had no chance to reply because Berion stormed forward to meet his son at full speed, but instead of raising his sword to defend himself he let it drop to the floor. Thranduil froze in horror and saw Legolas’ eyes widen in shock, twisting his body away because he would never be able to stop without impaling or wounding his weapons master, his uncle, his mentor, his patron, his friend deadly. And then he flung his knives away, as he realized no matter how fast and agile he was he wouldn’t be able to fully avoid contact, leaving him with no other option then that.
But even this didn’t prevented Thranduils heard from stopping, he starred at the two elves in front of him, both weaponless and starring at each other – on in horror, the other with calm confidence – and then Berion pulled Legolas closer, holding him tight to his chest and whispered something into his ear. And after that the younger elves eyes filled with tears and he slumped visibly, all fight draining out of him at once, exhaustion replacing it instantly; his knees buckled and Berion tightened his grip.

By the time they had brought him inside, bathed and all but forced a few of his favorite fruits and some water down his throat he was ready to drop on the spot. His eyes were half shut but flew open every time he so much as nodded off for a few seconds. His whole body shook uncontrollably with the memories of today’s mission. His fourth mission as a Captain, his first mission ending with one of the most important duties a Captain had, but it was the hardest one of them all.

At their coronation every Captain swore to protect the King with his own life. Protect the Kingdom with every breath they took and may it be their last. To praise every small ray of sunshine reaching the dark forest floor, value every life beneath the thick canopy, see to every living being, hear the voices calling for help, equally to whom it belongs, to elf, man, dwarf, bird or tree. They swore to stay true to themselves, promised to fight the darkness that spread through the forest and end all lives of every being beyond saving. Which didn’t only meant killing Orcs and other dark creatures or hurt animals which couldn’t be healed.
It meant saving an elven soul when you can’t safe the body, too. They swore to kill any of their own warriors when any attempt to rescue him alive failed or there wasn’t any possibility to do so.
Legolas had done so today for the first time. He had fulfilled his oath and shot an arrow through the heart of someone he knew for centuries to spare him never ending torture. He saved the soul of one he had played with as a child, explored the world with, joked and jested, completed warrior training with, they had even danced together while drunk on one feast or another, laughing at themselves and being laughed at by others.

The nearly soundless opening of the door let Legolas flinch and grab for weapons that weren’t there.
“Thranuilion look at me.” And Legolas did, shaking even more than before as Thranduil stood and walked to the open door to close it again after a concerned looking Galion had entered.

“I was with the healers, Laeron and Gelir will be alright after a few days of rest, Maeron will stay with them. And I brought a strong sleeping draught.”
Only now Thranduil noticed the still steaming cup and nodded in relief as he sat back his sons left other side, while Berion still sat on his right, talking softly.
Galion kneeled down in front of their prince and waited until the older elf had finished whatever he had told the blond before and smiled softly up at them as he placed the cup between still shaking fingers without letting go.
Legolas starred at the mug unseeing and Galion gently helped him drink until the amount of the draught drunk satisfied him.

It didn’t took long for the herbs to fulfill their purpose and while Legolas’ head sank down on Berions shoulder, eyes fully closed and his mind free of dark dreams, Thranduils head sank into his hands, elbows resting on his knees as he sucked in a shaky breath that sounded suspiciously like a sob.
He felt someone wrapping a blanket around his shoulders and Berions soft voice calling out for him. “Get some rest Oropherion, Galion and I am here to watch over you both. Rest my friend.”

And so they both did.

Chapter Text

Legolas came into Thranduils office without knocking and flopped down unceremoniously on the divan in front of the fire, lying motionless and facedown without saying anything.
Thranduil had watched his son questioningly since he had opened the door but wasn’t granted with any explanation.
“Legolas?” No reaction.
“Legolas?” Still nothing and he felt the urge to check if his son was still breathing.
“Greenleaf.” This time the tone of the spoken word brought a reaction and Legolas head snapped up, blue eyes looking at his father. Then his head dropped back into the cushion with a groan.
Before Thranduil could say something, Legolas did, voice muffled because of a big cushion.
“We had archery training today.”
Thandruil looked at him expectantly, his son had archery training everyday, so it shouldn’t be something special. He must have made some kind of noise, because Legolas finally turned his head around and actually looked at his father. Probably not out of courtesy but lack of oxygen.
“We were more targets than archer, really. We had to dodge arrows while shooting simultaneously. I may not have any feeling in my fingers or arms anymore and in my legs, too. Probably I couldn’t feel anything at all and everything hurts at the same time.”
The king winced inwardly and hoped that his son would never learn that he and Berion had come up with this special training for every new recruit after they had left Lindon such a long time ago. They needed not only archers; they needed elves who knew how to survive.
“You know, that is the way every battle is going to be, the enemy will not wait until you find some shelter before he tries to get you.”
The blond haired warrior to be glared at his father. “I know that. But drilling us through this kind of exercise two days later wouldn’t have made any difference for Berion, would it? Am I allowed to stay here for the rest of the night?”
“Oh no, the other recruits may do so; but you, my dear Prince, will accompany me.”
“You are cruel.”
“I am not. You could have chosen the path of a scholar or a healer, but decided to be a warrior instead, so you have to life with the consequences.”
“Never chose to be a prince” Legolas muttered and got up without his usual grace to get dressed for the evening meal with a delegation of Lothlorien elves.
“No, you did not, but you are the Prince and so you have to fulfill your duty.” He had never asked to be a King either, but he won’t say that out loud when Legolas was in a mood like now. Because he would suggest to let the whole state affair be a state affair, go out into their beloved forest and let Galion deal with the situation. Thranduil wasn’t far away to suggest it himself, but they had to behave as the royals they were.
“I would like you to wear that dark blue tunic, it is such a nice contrast to your silver circlet.”
“I hate you!”
Thranduil laughed at that. “I love you, too.”

“You broke the elfling.”
Berion looked at him in confusion. “Which one?”
“Mine.”
The weapons master laughed at that. “He looked whole the last time I saw him, contrary to some others leaving the training fields with him. Even if I have to admit that he looks a little bit pale tonight, but that could be because you buried him in this ridiculous tunic. He needs to eat more by the way. He is all muscle and bone and I am not done with them yet. He needs more to burn away.”
“You are invited to lead that fight; I have surrendered but feel free to try. Maybe he would be a little bit wider if someone wasn’t making a habit out of running the recruits into the ground every single time a certain one of them has to attend to an official dinner or banquet later that day” Tranduil countered and raised an eyebrow at his friend.
Berion tried to hide his amusement, but failed spectacularly. “Maybe he should have chosen the path of a scholar or healer instead.”
“Are you eavesdropping on my door?”
“No, that is Galions job, he is much better at this than I will ever be.”
Thranduil frowned and thought about this new piece of information for a short while, but wasn’t quite sure if Berion had really admitted that he and Galion were eavesdropping on his study door, which would be really frightening because these two already knew too much, but he decided to drop the matter for now and think about it at a time with less Dorwinion involved.
“I am doing him a favor by the way.”
Thranduils attention snapped back to the matter at hand. “By exhausting him to the point of near collapse and putting him in fine clothes afterwards?”
“Yes. What will he do, when you release him from his duties tonight in an hour or two?”
Ai Valar, he should have known better than this and stay away from the wine.
“He will sleep, I think. Probably without changing into much more comfortable clothes.”
“Exactly.”
Thranduil must have looked like as clueless as he felt, because Berion rolled his eyes and pushed his cup of wine some way back discretely.
“Tomorrow his duty as a Prince and a becoming warrior of the realm will be to represent the Archers. He will shoot clay balls, moving targets and things hidden, with and without a blindfold in front of all those here around us. He will hit every single one of them at his first try, I have no doubt. But he won’t sleep tonight, nerves as thin as the web of a spider, fretting over every single time he had missed. I am sure he remembers every one of them, because he didn’t miss often and maybe even I will be able to recall those few times he did. But he is so tired now, that he will not even spend one thought on tomorrow. He will only think about how to survive this evening and then fall into his bed and get a blissful nights rest.”
Only Thranduils years of practice prevented him from staring open mouthed at his friend in front of so many people.
“Another glass of Dorwinion, my dear King?” Berion asked politely, mischief twinkling in his dark eyes as clear as the stars on a frosty winter night.

The next day Celeborn turned lazily to Thranduil after Legolas had hit everything Berion had put in his way and said in an absolute casually tone: “It would have been a waste if he had chosen the path of a scholar or healer.”

Thranduil starred in disbelieve at one of his father’s best friends and decided to do something about the eavesdropping and if it only was to buy more wine so he wouldn’t notice anymore.

Chapter Text

Thranduil knew rage, he knew it rather well and so could fully understand when other people didn't know what to do, when it overwhelmed them and they tried to hurt the first person that said the wrong thing and broke the dam loose. And so he just listened in silence at first when his son spoke to him in that special tone even his most obstinate councilors had learned to fear, because they had angered him deeply and there would not by an easy way out of the situation.
Today it was him who had started this heated conversation with the question how the day of his son had been. He hadn't bothered to look up when Legolas had entered his office and could still slap himself for his stupidity, because one look at him would have told him that nothing was fine, more to the contrary.
Legolas' day had been beyond bad and he was still in his hunting clothes, still wearing his weapons, which should not enter his office -but he wouldn't point that out now- and had only come to tell him, that he would go directly back into the woods, even if he had only be home for about two hours. He had needed to see Thranduil, needed to see that his father was safe and doing the things he always does, he needed something normal and reassuring when elsewhere the situation had hit rock bottom again. But Thranduil had not bothered to look up or he would have seen that his son had needed him. Instead he had fueled the fire inside his beloved Greenleaf and would just listen for now before he would try to direct the rage burning bright and crashing against him back against the darkness that threatened them so badly. But it wasn't the right thing to do just yet, he needed the pacing, the fuming and to lose control for some time before he could come back and be the joyful and caring soul he normally was. Thranduil came to the conclusion that he had probably, even if not intended, done the right thing, because his son would not go back into the dark as wound up and troubled as he had come home, the more relaxed his son was, the better he reacted to whatever came rolling in his direction.
And so he listened until the fury made room for the exhaustion and worry it had covered . Legolas' seemed to be totally lost for a moment and Thranduils heart wept for his beloved son. His shoulders slumped and he rubbed a still blood coated hand over his eyes before he looked truly at his father for the first time.
“Ai Yavanna. I am sorry Ada. I... It is definitely nor your fault, I... it...”

“It is alright” Thranduil stopped him gently and stood up to walk around his desk and put a hand on his sons shoulder. The younger elf leaned slightly into the touch and Thranduil put his other hand behind his head, pressing both their foreheads together until he could only guess that Legolas had probably closed his eyes. Soaking up the familiarity, trust and safety of the moment.
“There is nothing you have to be sorry for. I made a mistake and in the end it is good that you lost your temper with me and not with one of your archers, friends or anyone else in the stronghold, because I know the burden you carry and am able to understand your feelings. I will never hold a grudge against you for the feelings you have, even if I would not understand them or if it were my doings and orders that made you go trough them. Or better, definitely not then. But please never forget that I wished for a better life for you and your friends and our people. I never imagined that I would be forced to fight for millenia and have to send my own son into battle after battle and fear for his well-being every hour he is not within these safe walls. I wished something different for us. And if not for me, I wished it for you.”

Before he could say something else, there was a sharp knock on the door and he felt how Legolas took a deep breath before stepping back. Now he was the one feeling lost for a short moment and only the raised eyebrow of his son led him back.
“Enter!”
The door opened and Maedor stepped into the room without saying a word. He looked as weary as his son, but his eyes told them everything. They were ready and only waiting for their Captain to go back for another fight. Legolas nodded and made his way to the door, but turned around once more before he closed it: “I'd rather be here with you and this damn war on our doorstep, than all alone in a time of peace. We will get peace together arda, I am sure of that.”
And with those words and a smile on his lips he left to fight another battle and take another step closer to their time in peace together.

Chapter Text

„Ada?“
„Yes.“
„Is this our new home now?“
„Yes.“
„Is it safe here?“
„Yes.“
„The trees like us, do they not?“
„I think they do so, but asked them yourself, that would be the easiest way to get a proper answer, don't you think?“
Legolas' face scrunched up in concentration while he thought about it and Thranduil enjoyed the silence once more.
„Ada?“
„Yes, my little leaf.“
He could practically feel the smirk on Berions lips, who laid next to them in the soft grass, relaxing in the warm sunlight.
“Can we trust them?”
Berion, too looked up sharply at that and Thranduil recognized that he had his hand on the hilt of his knife instantly. Legolas had proven that he could sense some kind of danger a lot earlier than they could, heritage of his mother. Such as it came from the trees in particular. But Thranduil staid calm and looked at his beloved son with confidence and let his voice sound as calm as possible.
“What makes you think otherwise?”
Legolas didn't look at him but starred at the big trees surrounding the clearing.
“I do not know them well and they are speaking different than the trees at our old home.”
Thranduil could feel that the trees attention was drawn to them more than a few moments before, but he couldn't feel something dark behind that; only curiosity and the wish to befriend the small elfing next to him. They already loved his son, even if they weren't here for long.
“I think we can trust them.”
Berion sank back against the tree he had used as a backrest before and was greeted with a pleased humming sound from it, while Thandruil huffed. The other elf trusted him too much sometimes, but when he said that it was safe than it was. Berion had never questioned him in that point, they had argued and fought on many occasions because they weren't the same opinion but when one of them declared them safe, than they trusted each other blind, because there wasn't anything more important than that in this dark forest.
“Ada?”
Thranduil sighted inwardly, but answered nonetheless “Yes.”
“You are the king of this forest, right?”
“I am the king of the silvan elves here in Greenwood, yes. But not of the forest itself or the creatures calling it a home.”
Legolas sat totally still after his words and Thranduil could practically see the wheels in his sons head turning; something was bothering him, but it would be useless to pry, because that would only stress him and they would never come to the point where he was actually able to voice his thoughts. And so he waited, not as patiently as he looked on the outside; he had sworn to give Legolas all the time he needed to adjust to whatever was happening and how old he was, but sometimes his ability of indecision and overthinking infuriated him a lot.
Berion began to play something light and happy on his flute and Thranduil thought about beeing annoyed with his friend, who definitely that his patience wasn't endless in high contrast to Legolas' ability to overthink – and that he liked it a lot when he played.
It hadn't happened often over the last year, were they had fought, in the end fled and began to built a new home, while grieving and watching out for their backs, ready to defend and fight at every second, even his son had learned to kill, as had some of his friends. They still hadn't enough warriors and people to defend their realm, care for the old, sick and injured, or the young which had lost their parents. And now Berion played again, after Thranduil had declared them safe and he must admit that he hadn't been aware of how much he had missed his friends playing. It had always been moments like these, where they were undisturbed and there was only peace and quiet and....
“Ada?”
Thranduil could see the smirk on Berions lips and suppressed the urge to elbow him in the ribs before he turned to his son once more.
“Yes, my little leaf?”
“The great oak tree right next to the entrance of our new home told me, that it is the king of all the trees here. It confused me a lot with that, because I thought that you were the only king. I said that to the oak, too but it only laughed at that. It didn't sound bad to me, but I thought that it wanted to harm you, so it could be the only king again.
Thranduil looked at his son in surprise and Berion missed a note. None of the trees had told them something about their king and if he remembered correctly the great oak his son spoke of hadn't said a single word to anyone except him. He pulled Legolas in his lap and began to braid his hair, because it would focus his skittering mind on his words and presence rather than the voices of the trees, before he spoke again.
“I am only the king of our people. I am here to protect them, to help them and make sure, that they can live a life in which they can grow and be the elves they want to be. There are many other kings, not elven ones, of that I am the last, but there are great kings of men and other cultures all over these shores. And so, as I care for all of our people, the mighty oak does it, too.
Legolas nodded and then his slightly absent eyes lit up as he jumped excited to his feet: “Laeron sayed that he wanted to go swimming with Maedor and Gelir, am I allowed to go with them? Laeorns older brothers will come with us. Please!”
Thranduil smiles fondly at his son and nodded, but wasn't able to say something because his son had already vanished into the trees. Only their excited voices told him where exactly his son was, bathing him in joy and merry laughter to gain his attention, which they had.
“He is in good hands. Laerons brothers have enough younger siblings and nephews to know what they are doing ans there is enough enemy blood on their swords, too. They are able to defend themselves and a horde of elflings, which are also loved by the trees.”
Thranduil knew that and relaxed back with his eyes closed, savoring the quiet tones of Berions flute at the otherwise silent clearing; only interrupted frequently by a tree, which told him that his son was fine.

He waited until Legolas was deep asleep a made sure, that Galion was nearby before he walked out into the night. He left the rock formation they called home since a few months and walked straight to the mighty oak only a few steps away from the entrance. It was much older than most of the trees nearby and he waited at its foot. He could practically feel its presence focusing on him, but didn't make the first move. He was here to bid something and so he was in no position to force himself upon this ancient guardian of the forest. He felt guilty about coming so late and only after his son had pointed out, that they had settled down in someone else home, he had had other things on his mind, but should never have been that ignorant. He had hated that on his father, who often had thought that there was no need to listen to other peoples thoughts and was convinced that he did the right thing anyway. In the end it had cost him his life and Thranduil had sworn to himself that he would be different, but he had failed now and acted as his father would have. He would do better in the future and if he had to wait for years to be acknowledged, he would do so. But he needn't to worry, because the leaves began to rustle softly moments before the tree spoke to him for the first time.
And so the two kings talked, the guardians of their people, until the first rays of sunshine were visible above the trees and the soul of nature and elves awakened.

Their bond grew over the years and at the day Thranduil left his beloved forest with a weeping heart to follow his little leaf as he had promised he stood in front of the great oak for one last time. It had gone quiet in the years after the war had ended and Thranduil felt like he had lost a friend., but he had to admit that it made the final farewell easier. The forest had healed and came to its well deserved rest, the last of his people which had no intention to sail would remain and watch over it. He rested his hand for one last time on the rough bark and said goodbye, the soft whispering of leaves the only answer he got. The voice of his friend was silent for many years now. As he turned around to Galion, Berion and the last ones of his people, which would follow him over the sea, something fell into the hood of his cloak, he took hold of it with soft fingers and found a small sapling in his hand, nearly vibrating with joy and energy, feeling exactly the same as his old friend had.
He laughed and knew that it would be a welcomed present for his son and they would make sure to plant the tree next to their new home in Valinor.

Chapter Text

Thranduil looked up from the reports he had been reading and listened. There had been some noises outside he couldn't name, but there was silence once again. He shock his head and got back to reading, probably Berion had ordered some guards to patrol the gardens surrounding their home, too; even if they should be safe.
He hadn't read more than two lines as he heard it again. Some scratching sound and then nothing again. He hesitated while looking out the window, but the sound wouldn't repeat itself. Probably no guards but a stray animal, they often searched for food or warmth near their mountain home.
He turned back to the report and this time he got halfway through it before the noise interrupted him again. It was totally dark outside, only a quarter moon on the night sky, lighting the place somewhat but not enough to actually see anything. He would only expose himself to whatever creature was roaming around outside by standing in front of the bright window. He stood slowly and moved away from his desk, into his bedroom which wasn't lit by any candles and could vaguely see some figures moving some way beneath his window and on the ground, but couldn't make out anything specific. They were climbing the mountain side? Why wouldn't they use the official way through the doors? His heartbeat fastened at the thought, most likely because the wouldn't be allowed to enter. He backed out of the room and into the hallway, it was as empty as it should be; he thought about waking his son, but he would probably never sleep again if this place proved itself not to be safe as the rest of the forest. He couldn't let that happen, Legolas actually needed a place were he could rest and let his guard down, where he was safe without question. No, he had to do this alone, or he had to do this without his son.
“Send for Lord Berion and tell him, that I need a revenge at my lost game of chess the other night instantly.”
If the elves guarding his doors found his request odd they didn't show it and one of them walked away immediately. Good. Thranduil turned around to get into position in his office again. He and Berion had never played a single game of chess against each other but used that phrase as a code word when one of them needed help. The room was still unoccupied when he opened the door carefully and so he positioned himself next to the desk in front of his bedroom door. Strategically it was the best place to defend himself until Berion was able to join him, entering through the door in the back of the attacker.
He waited, muscles tense and ears strained for any sound he could hear from outside, there was definitely someone climbing the mountainside in direction of his open window. Probably two or three, but the noises sounded off sometimes. Where was Berion?
Then he heard a sliding noise, a yelp, some frantic whispered shout and a suppressed laugh before something heavy seemed to land on the ground beneath. Then more whisper and hushed laughs.
A suspicion grew within him and he turned around, leaving his office again to take a look in his sons room, which revealed anything he needed to know and a predatory smile began to form on his lips. As he made his way back, Berion entered through the large double door leading into their quarters with his sword on his hip and a battle ready expression on his face.
“You won't need that” Thranduil pointed at the sword “but this. Aim at the window, but please don't shot the one coming through that window. I think you would regret that if I am right. If I am wrong we probably have a problem.”
Berion frowned but did as he was told after Thranduil handed him a bow and quiver. They stood in silence, bows drawn as if to shot the creature coming out of the darkness forbidden if it wasn't leaving for the halls of Mandos at the sheer sight of those two great and deadly warriors.
And then a head appeared above the windowsill and Thranduils suspicion was proven right as he recognized the all to familiar face. Laeron froze instantly as he saw his king and his weaponsmaster ready to shoot him. Eyes wide, with a hint of panic within. From somewhere behind the shocked warrior-to-be came a hushed voice and when no reaction came from him another head appeared in the small circle of light. Gelir as it seemed, he actually squeaked at the sight. Then there was some rustling and another voice asked something to quiet to understand, but even before Thranduil saw the blond hair he knew it was his son. Legolas slid himself between the other two, then looked his father in the eyes for half a second, before all three of them vanished at once. The shock of the sight in front of them, replaced by the one of weightlessness.
Berion looked at him in slight amusement as the rustling, laughing and Yavanna help them, giggling had stopped.
“You call that an emergency?” he asked with a raised eyebrow and Thranduil shrugged.
“Didn't know it then. But now, that you are actually here anyway, you can help me to handle those three drunken elflings.”
Berion growled but it was obvious that he already enjoyed the moment as he walked to the window and commanded them to come inside on the shortest way in a voice that didn't allow any objection. The order was regarded with some muttering, because it meant to climb up again. This time they actually made it inside and even if the two elder elves could see that the younger ones were a bit afraid of what awaits them it didn't dampen their mood in the slightest. Laeron and Gelir came first, followed by Legolas, who had slung an unresponsive Maedor above his shoulder, which the other two helped to carry inside after Legolas had heaved him up enough.
Thranduils concern grew at the sight, but after a short inspection it showed that he wasn't injured but absolutely drunk and Berion turned him on his side on the divan in front of the fireplace before he placed a light blanket over him.
“What exactly were you doing out there?” he asked in a stern voice and all but his son squirmed a little bit under those icy blue glare.
“Well, we came back from this mission today and it happened, that the caravan with the new barrels of wine came at the exact same moment! So we saw it as our duty to try it and make sure that it is good enough to be served in our halls on the coming feast next week” Legolas reported "and then we wanted to sneak into my room, but it seems that we got to the wrong side of the stronghold." His brow furrowed in confusion upon this mistake and Berion hid a smile in a cough at the sight. His son tried to stand at ease, as it was common for the soldiers while reporting in private, but failed spectacularly as he swayed from one side to the other like a young birch in a storm. His words were slurred but his eyes alight with joy and Thranduil couldn't bring it over himself to be angry with this lot, how drunk were they?
He looked at Berion, who understood and walked over to a cupboard, coming back with another two bottles of wine and five glasses.

When Galion entered the office late at night as he often did, to make sure that Thranduil actually got some sleep and clean up the room he stopped slightly irritated in the doorway. The divan with the sleeping form of Maedor had been pushed to the side a little bit, so it would still be reached by the warmth of the fire but the other elves could sit in front of it on cushions and blankets too. There were a few empty bottles neatly lined up in the middle of them and they all were definitely drunk but happy.
Thranduil saw him and waved him over while getting up to fetch another glass for him.
“Oh Berion shut up! How should the elflings respect me as their King again if you tell them every mischief we did and father actually getting us.”
Berion rolled his eyes “He got us only one thirds of the time, Galion made sure that he was preoccupied with anything else often enough. Haven't you?”
And so Galion found himself on the floor, with a glass of wine at hand, wonderfull memories in his mind and surrounded by his friends as did his two oldest friends and the ones following in their foorsteps.

Chapter Text

Laeron swayed visibly while giving his report to Thranduil and the king was glad that that there weren't much other elves around today.

His halls weren't as often visited as they had been centuries ago; delegations from other elven realms came every now and then, wizards or one in particular more often, but he seldom allowed humans to visit his realm, it was far too dangerous. And so his throne room had become more a place to discuss the matters of their daily life and wasn't a place to impress guests anymore. Sometimes it turned into a playground for the children, if the situation outside was too dangerous for them to have fun between the trees. At other times there were brought tables and chairs and they would dine and drink together with everyone able to come, when it wasn't possible to do so under their beloved stars. Or an underestimated wizard brought animals here to be sheltered, because he didn't know how to protect them against the spreading darkness otherwise. This was no throne room anymore, but a home to everyone living in his realm.

Right now there were only few elves left because of the late hour; most of his advisors and counselors had already retreated for the day. But as usual the Captains coming back from a patrol or mission gave a short report about their doing. And that was, what awakened the fear within his heart. The Captains report to their king or Lord Berion, if he himself wasn't available, but Laeron was no Captain; he was his sons second in command, his Lieutenant and he seemed barely able to stay upright any longer.
Thranduil carefully searched for the younger elves fae and felt a mix of pain, injuries, exhaustion and poison that would have felled a lot of others, but not his warriors. They weren't beaten easily and could endure much more than most of their kin. Which made it even more terrifying that his son wasn't here.
Laeron had stopped halfway trough a sentence to catch his breath and collect himself once more, but before he started speaking again Thranduil send some warmth and healing in his direction. He knew that he shouldn't do that and Galion would definitely scold him later, but he couldn't let one of his sons oldest and dearest friends suffer any longer.
The dark haired elf let out a shaky breath as he felt the pain retreat somewhat and turned his thankful gaze to Thranduil before he finished his report. Which made the wish too run to the healing ward immediately more urgent, but he needed to coordinate some things first.
However first of all he dismissed the elf in front of him: “Thank you, Lieutenant. Lord Berion awaits your detailed report by end of the week, make sure that someone writes down the important bits for the other Captains to include them into the next patrols.”
Laeron bowed shortly with as much grace as he had left and turned around to walk through the great double door as a healer opened it in a rush and came to a breathless halt in front of the throne, looking up pleadingly at his king.
“Aran-nin, it is about the prince. He vanished into the trees and they won't tell us where he is. We didn't thought him capable of moving and...”
But Thranduil heard no more, as he got up in a rush, all dignity forgotten as he hurried in direction of the healing ward, already searching for his son while running.

The trees didn't hesitate to show him where exactly his son was hiding; Legolas had always been the trees favorite and there were times when they wouldn't even answer Thranduil about his whereabouts more often than not, but never as they were as concerned as at this very moment. He could feel their panic and let himself be guided to the only tree not calling frantically to save their beloved prince.
The old and mighty oak hummed with peace and healing and Thranduil climbed into its crown without slowing down. There he found his son, but didn't dare to touch him, because he looked like he was already on his way to Mandos' halls and Thranduil was afraid that his biggest fear came true the moment he so much as dared to blink.

And then the oak reached for him, reassuringly and comforting; concerned but without any hint of mourning and that was all the encouragement he needed. He took his sons body out of the trees hold and nestled him gently in his arms and against his chest. Legolas didn't react, but his pain stained features softened a bit. He didn't know how long they sat there, blood seeping into his clothes which wasn't his; but Legolas was still breathing, even if it sounded labored and strained.

Eventually a dark haired head appeared between the leaves and Berion knelt down next to them a moment later in another branch. Legolas whimpered softly as he cupped his face with both hands, not bothering with the blood he got on them in the process.
“Hush, Thranduilion, you are safe now. You brought them home, all of them are alive, which seems like an impossible task to me after everything I have heard of your patrol so far. You did great. You are safe. Now heal and rest.” And then directed at Thranduil: “Celairon is on his way, he brings everything he needs with him and I should tell you that we don't even need to think about moving him; he will be able to treat him here with our help. They already gave him the first dose of antivenom before he fled his bed.”

They didn't need to wait long for the healer to join them; he had a small bundle slung above his shoulder and climbed the tree with the ease of all silvan elves. Thranduil knew him since he had been a raw and inexperienced apprentice back in Doriath such a long time ago. He had left his master for the sake of Thranduil and had followed him since without hesitation and he couldn't have find a better healer than him. There was only one he knew, who could probably be better than him, but never in the crown of a tree, several feet above the ground.

Celairon set to work immediately; treating the wounds after he had given Legolas a strong pain and sleeping drought. Thranduil knew it to be dangerous, but it was the only way to make sure that he would be able to endure the treatment. He could feel his sons much to cool skin and his racing heartbeat under his hands, body trying to twist away from everything Celairon did, even while so heavily sedated. Thranduil didn't look away from the procedure even if the sight of his sons blackened and bloodied flesh nearly sickened him. Celairon worked as efficient as possible, causing no more pain than absolutely necessary and he had to do so, while saving his prince.
Some of the wounds needed a direct treatment and a washing with the antivenom, while they infused a second and third dose in-between doing so.

And then they were done and the healer wrapped a thick blanket around his king and prince. Legolas was stitched up and cleaned, clad in fresh clothes and made as comfortable as possible for now. Thranduil blinked tiredly at the healer in confusion as he tucked them in, seeing his son like this had exhausted him deeply.
Berion huffed with fond amusement at the sight and Celairon wore a soft smile on his lips, too.
“It is up to Legolas now, but I am in a positive mood. I will let the two of you rest and will check on you frequently through the night. Sleep well now.”
With this words he left them alone and Thranduil cradled his son more secure in his arms, the oak helped him by rearranging its branches somewhat. It wasn't as comfortable as a bed would be, but it would do for the night, tomorrow he would bring his son inside.
And then Berion wrapped them a little bit tighter into the blankets and began his silent watch over the two, already fast asleep, elves next to him.

“I brought breakfast and no, your glare isn't threatening me in the slightest. It is only some fruits and still warm bread. You need to eat, so you can keep your strength. Someone has to be able to keep Legolas in his bed as soon as he is able to open his eyes again.” Galion said and felt Legolas forehead. “He is burning up, good.”
Thranduil nodded, Celairon had checked in on them frequently through the night and had worried, because his son hadn't developed said fever until they had given him another dose of antivenom. Which meant, that his body had finally begun to fight the poison. After that his body needed to battle the fever, but there wasn't another option with this special kind of poison.
“Do you need anything else before we move him inside the next time Celairon comes to check on him?”
Thranduil shook his head at first, but decided change his mind.
“Please bring ink and paper.”
Galion looked at him in slight confusion.
“I need to write a letter and send it to Elrond, asking him to take in Legolas and his archers as soon as they are able to make the journey, so they could heal in Imladris."
Galion nodded approvingly; even if Thranduil didn't like the prospect of sending his son away, it was the wisest decision he could make. There was no better place to heal than at the last homely house and under the care of its Lord. Far away from the darkness and its creatures. But until then he would hold his son close and was totally content to feel his way too fast but steady heartbeat next to his own.

Chapter Text

Elrond stopped in the doorway and looked with fondness at the scene in the small room which faced one of the gardens and was alight with the last rays of sunshine visible over the mountain tops.
The fire had already burned down, but the still glowing coals provided enough warmth for the sleeping elf on the divan in front of it to be comfortable with only his fathers heavy cloak covering him up to the waist.

Legolas' breathing was deep and even, only the firmly closed eyes indicating that he was still battling the lingering effects of poisoned wounds. He was deeply exhausted but well on the mend and annoyed the healers with his stubbornness and periods of untamed energy. Those episodes didn't last long but got more frequent over the last couple of days.

Next to the wall occupied by room high book shelves stood Berion and looked out of the windows into the garden. He had turned around at Elronds approach, but got back to his previous activity as soon as he realized that his attention wasn't needed. There were some elves that felt insulted by his presence here because they thought him to be some kind of bodyguard of his king, but didn't see that he was simply a friend. One, whom Thranduil trusted infinitely, even with the well-being of his son.

But what warmed his heart the most was Thranduil playing a game of chess, for probably the 60th time since Legolas was declared safe and healing well, with Estel.
The King sat relaxed in one of the armchairs in a leggings and a light tunic, his crown nowhere to be seen and with one foot under his thigh on top of the seat, his chin resting in his right hand, which was supported with his elbow on the armrest.
His six year old foster son sat opposite him and starred at the board in high concentration while he nibbled on the nail of his left hand thumb. His right hand hovered above the figures, before he used it to brush some stray locks out of his eyes, before it returned to its previous position. And then the lines in his forehead seemed to deepen some more, but he still didn't make a move.

“What are you thinking about?” Thranduil asked in that special tone reserved for small elflings only and as it seemed for his foster son, too.
Elrond felt deeply thankful and was a little bit touched if he was honest. He didn't know how Estel had managed to wrap one of the most intimidating elves still on this side of the sea around his finger, but he had. Even Berion, who usually had a great dislike of dwarves and men, had begun to act protective of him, which he couldn't explain at all. Maybe it was because their beloved Greenleaf had fallen in love with the child at first sight, as had his own sons. And his daughter and when he thought about it, every other elf of his household or visitor who had opportunity to interact with him. Glorfindel had gone so far as to crawl on all fourth through the library with a cheering Estel on his back, wooden sword in one hand and a wide grin on his face. Urging his 'Asfaloth' to run a little bit faster; Erestor had voiced that a slight resemblance could not be denied if you took a better look at their manes and their fussy behavior.

Estels small voice broke him out of his musing.
“I do not know what to do.”
Thranduil smiled one of those seldom smiles which reached his eyes and softened his features, so he didn't look like the cold and hardened warrior King he was anymore, but like the caring father only a few people outside of his realm knew him to be.
“Do you want to tell me what is bothering you? Maybe we can figure out which one of your chess pieces to move next together.”

How could an elf so cold and unforgiving be so kind to a child?

“Yes!” Estel exclaimed happily, than seemed to remember with whom he was speaking and added more sedately: “I think that I have two options, but can not decide which one is better, because I do not know what you will do next.”
It sounded a little bit like he was pouting, which transferred the warmth of Thranduils smile from his lips to his eyes.

“May I offer you a solution?”

How could an elf so uncompromising be so open for anything a child asks and says?

“Yes, please!” Estel fell back into his excitement, every thought of polite reluctance forgotten and looked up at the elven King with big and hopeful eyes.
“What do you think about drawing the board and the positions of our pieces like they are now. After that you will decide for one of your options and we will play another game tomorrow, starting from this point in our game with the help of our drawing from today. So you will be able to try both of your options.”
Estels mouth formed an 'O' for a moment before he nodded frantically and jumped down from his chair, whipping of the two cushions he had sat upon to be able to reach the board in the progress without noticing, and nearly run to one of the bookshelves where he knew ink and paper to be. Then he rushed back and all but shoved both items into Thranduils hands.
“Can you draw it please? If I do it, it will take sooooo much time”, huge eyes starred up pleadingly.

“I would be honored to do so. But you have to look closely, so I won't get anything wrong.”

Estel nodded happily and then did something nobody had expected. Elrond watched in horror as his foster son climbed into the kings lap to get a better look and was about to storm into the room and pick the child up as Thranduils stunned expression turned into fond amusement and he adjusted his seat, so they could both sit comfortable while he drew the actual setting of their game.

How could an elf so deadly with a sword be so gentle with a child?

“Can you remember your second move until we play again or do you want me to write it down for you?”
Estel hesitated.
“We can ask Berion or your father to write it, if you do not want me to do it. That way I won't know what awaits me tomorrow.”

The boy thought for another moment, before he nodded.
“It would probably better to write it down, but I don't know where Ada is and...” His eyes flickered shyly to Berion, who still stood at the window, obviously amused by Estels way of saying what he wanted without saying that he wasn't brave enough to ask Mirkwoods weapons master.

“Oh, I think your father came through the door only a few moments ago” Thranduil said and Estels eyes found him instantly, smile widening in the progress.
“Ada! I need your help with some writing!”
He hopped down from Thranduils lap as careless as had climbed into it and walked over as fast as possible without running; grabbed Elronds hand and pulled him to the table and his side of the chess board.

And while the Lord of the Last Homely House listened to Estel, the King stood up to check on his own son and began a conversation with Berion as if to show that he won't eavesdrop on Estel.
But the boy spoke so loud and excited that Galion and Erestor were most likely able to hear him at their current location in the great library a few doors away and probably Glorfindel, too out somewhere on the training fields.

-------------

Aragorns hand stopped hesitantly before it could touch the small figure and he frowned without moving it.

“How do you do that?” He asked suddenly and looked up and into those intense blue eyes at the other side of the table, chess forgotten for the moment.
“What exactly are you referring to?”
“How are you able to be so patient with me, but with no other human? How does it come that someone so entwined with his forest as you are comes all the way here for something like this?” He gestured wildly with both hands, including the massive stones surrounding them, the heavy robes both of them had mindlessly discarded above the backrest of a chair, their crowns next to them on the seat of the same chair and their current game of chess. It was one of hundredths of games they had played against each other in those many decades of Aragorns life and not only the color of his locks had changed since their first game.

“It has worked out quite well for me and my people to be patient with you and the decisions you had to make, so I don't see a point in rushing you.”
As a small child he had decided to befriend his son and as they tried to cut all bonds the youth had decided that he won't be locked out. He had decided to stay. Had decided to grew up and become a man and later even a King. He had decided to be strong and kind and believe in his own strength and that of his men. He had decided to unite and heal and regrow. He had decided to overcome his own fear and bring light to a dark world. But the most important was, that he had not only decided to do so, but that he had succeeded as well.

Aragorn looked at him, but even if he couldn't see the other Kings thoughts, he saw the truth of his spoken words in those ancient eyes and so he matched the other ones smile and made his next move without hesitation.

Chapter Text

Thranduil stepped into the room without a sound and was totally content to just watch the scene in front of him.
Warm sunlight streamed through the big window and fell on the two figures laying on the bed in front of it, cushions and blankets forming a nest around them. It was warm and a soft breeze came in through a door at the other side of the room, moving the light curtains softly from time to time.

He moved again and came to a stop directly in front of the knee-high mattress; Legolas laid with his back to him on his left side, knees slightly bend and blond hair spilled over the white linen. His breathing was deep and even, his blue eyes open and glazed over in elven sleep and he had a soft and happy smile on his lips.

But what warmed the Kings heart -even if it was a title he didn't used any longer- the most was, that his son was truly at peace for the first time in centuries, not a single spot of darkness tainting his soul and may it be so small only. It shone bright and clear as it was meant to be. It sang and vibrated with joy and absolutely happiness as it has done the last time before the death of his mother, the war and so many losses in all his time in Middle-earth and here at those blesses shores, too. But even Gimlis passing had been a few hundreds years ago now, but it had needed his son until this very night to heal again.

Thranduil knew that this moment of undisturbed and utter peace would only last for a few more days, probably with some luck for some weeks, before old memories would come back, but hopefully settle down and leave his son with the memory of the good times and not only the pain of loss. But those thoughts were for another day.

Right now the only thing important was, that his son was truly happy for the time beeing.

He didn't so much as blink while he continued to watch his son and saw very small fingers found their way to Legolas tunic and hold on tight to the fabric. The other little hand had hold of his sons finger already. The small elfling smacked his lips some before it settled down again in the safe embrace of his fathers arms. Eyes closed and soft blonde hair sticking up in all directions. Legolas snuggled his child closer to his chest and the both of them settled down once more.
Legolas cheek touched the newborns forehead and Thranduil saw a strand of his hair move slightly with every breath his grandchild took.

He grabbed a light blanket and draped it over the two of them before he settled down in a nearby armchair and simply watched the two sleeping forms as his soul joined the song of his sons soul easily.

Chapter Text

„Ada! Ada, we met an... Why does the water look so funny?“

Thranduil froze, but not because of the nearly freezing water that came down in a small waterfall through a natural hole in the massive stonewall and which he used to wash himself with at the moment. The water ran down his body in red and black and mixed to a muddy brown at his bare feet.

“Have you painted something? You told me to be careful and not waste anything!”

Legolas pouted and Thranduil needed to come up with anything but silence before his son realized the real reason for the colored water. Blood. His own, that of his people and that of Orcs and Wargs alike. But before his numbed mind could think of something useful, another elf appeared in the roughly carved doorway.
Galion, too seemed to freeze for a second, eyes widening slightly, but other than his King he reacted immediately.

“Oh my dear Prince, only because the elder say that you should do things one way or the other doesn't mean that they are any better at it. And only because they know how things are to do or should be handled doesn't mean that they are able to do it themselves.”

Legolas whole face scrunched up in concentration at those words as Galion guided him gently, but with a firm hand out of the room again.
The last thing Thranduil heard before the other two were to far away for him to understand was Legolas excited voice, because he had figured out what Galion had wanted to tell him: “So, it is like the one time I could tell that this messenger wrote your name wrong, but wasn't able to make it better, because I couldn't write back then?”
“Exactly!” came the proud reply and with that he was alone and in silence once more. He starred down at the water, running around his feet in a mixture of red and black and brown and he wanted to scream and rage and eventually cry for all those souls lost. But he could, and would, not. He was the King after all. His people needed him, the leader, not the father and still grieving husband. How should he protect them? He had already failed once, their home was lost, who should prevent them from loosing another?
He wished, not for the first time, that his father was still there and could guide him. Or better, was still King; so the only thing he had to worry about was how he could sneak out of his room with Berion without anybody noticing. Would he ever be able to give Legolas a childhood as carefree as his? Even if there had been enough dead and misery, too. But he also had had more than enough time for fun and mischief. Well, and enough slaughter. He shuddered at the thought and hoped that his son would never have to see things like those.

He wiped away a few tears in frustration as he heard the thick cloth serving as a door was moved again and was sure that it was neither Galion nor Legolas and so it could be only one other elf.

“You are aware that nobody would have noticed those tears if you hadn't wiped them away, you are wet from the water anyway.” And as an afterthought. “And probably already frozen or you would have noticed that by yourself. You want to share some water?”
Thranduil looked at his friend for the first time, who seemed to be as battered as he was and nodded, before he left the small waterfall.

Berion draped a clean towel over Thranduils shoulders as he had simply stepped aside, but hadn't moved otherwise, before he got rid of his destroyed clothes and stepped into the cold water without a second thought. He would never have done it otherwise; the cold seemed to paralyze him for a few seconds, before his head and shoulders became numb enough to endure it. He scrubbed himself down hastily and glanced at Thranduil, who still stood as he had left the him. Water dripping down his bruised body, towel hanging lose and forgotten around his shoulders.

“Get yourself dry and into some clothes. Your lips are already as blue as your eyes!” he bellowed and Thranduil snapped out of it.
“You are just jealous that your lips don't turn the color of your eyes” he shot back, but began to dry himself, cautious of the tender spots of heavy bruising and a few stitches on his left arm.
Berion snorted: “That would be a most interesting experience.”
“Funny how you pronounce 'disturbing'.”

Thranduil scrambled hastily out of reach as Berion splashed some water in his direction. Had it been that cold a few minutes ago, too? He shivered, dropped the rough towel and put on some fresh clothes. It felt good to be clean again, even if clean and warm would be a lot better, but he knew that there would be a fire burning in his rooms. They hadn't had much comfort, but the elves not fighting were busy building their new home and fireplaces were one of the first things they had created everywhere.
As he had come back a few days ago from another fight he saw that someone had cared enough to built him a bed with a big and a small blanket on top. He had nearly burst into tears at the sight, as far as he knew it was the only bed in the stronghold at the moment. He had thought about giving it to the healers, but after a stern look from Galion decided otherwise. It was a gift from his people and he would never reject their efforts.

He looked back at Berion and frowned.
“Have you been with the healers?”
“No.”
Thranduil just starred at him.
“They had more urgent matters to attend to than an not poisoned scratch.”
Thranduil just starred at him further until he left the water with a defeated sight and turned around enough for him to have a look.

“I will tell Galion that he should explain the definition of a scratch to you again. I now that we have a encyclopedia somewhere in this hastily packed mess, which includes an exact description of one. That one on your side, you will locate under 'fleshwound' and with the more detailed description of 'deep' and 'ragged'. What had this creature hit you with? A saw?”
Berion shrugged, but stopped mid-move; now that Thranduil had forced him to acknowledge his injury it hurt.
“The healers are busy enough. This will be able to heal on its own with some time given.”
“Who's talking about the healers? You are coming with me. Get dressed and follow me but don't put a shirt on. No need to ruin a new one so fast.”
“It isn't bleeding anymore.”
“Because you are nearly frozen. Get moving.”

It wasn't the first time that he stitched his friend up, but he had to admit, that it wasn't getting any easier. A needle shouldn't be penetrating skin, just cloth. Even if it didn't seem to bother the needle as much as him.
He made quick work of sewing the wound, not causing more discomfort than absolutely necessary and put some salve on it before wrapping it up.

“You will sleep in the bed with that wound of yours” he whispered softly and got up to gather some blankets and make himself comfortable in front of the fire.
“I am not! It is yours and I can't have my king sleep on the floor while I lay in his bed” Berion hissed back. “I have slept on the ground with far worse injuries than this one.”
“That's true and every time you have been hurting more the other day. Do I have to make it an order or will you humor me and do as I suggested?”
Berion looked at him with an expression that told him how much exactly he cared about being ordered around at the moment and opened his mouth for a, most likely snarky, reply but was stopped by a small voice coming from the object of their discussion.

“Ada?” Legolas sat in the middle of the bed, hair tousled from sleep and eyes drooping between blankets that had slipped from his shoulders while sitting up.
“Yes little leaf, it is me. Go back to sleep.”
“Are you coming, too?”
“No, but Berion will join you tonight, alright?”
Legolas frowned and looked from his father to Berion and back again: “Do you have to go out into the forest once more?”
Now it was Thranduils turn to look confused. “No, I don't have to go out again. I will be right here in front of the fire and sleep. Berion got hurt today and can't sleep on the ground.”
He ignored the betrayed look his friend gave him.

Legolas lips formed a small 'O' and he made room immediately. Berion now had no other chance than to lay down next to the elfling and Thranduil felt pleased with himself. He was about to settle down on his makeshift bed as Legolas spoke again.

“Ada?”
“Yes, my leaf.”
“I don't need much space and will make myself very small so you can come into bed, too. Berion said he won't be bothered to share with the two of us and it will work out just fine. Please?”

Thranduil wanted to argue, but didn't know how and ,as he only admitted to himself, why. Who was he, to deny his son such a simple wish. He sat down at the edge of the bed and looked at Berion, who seemed to glow with satisfaction. Looking at him like he wanted to say 'I told you, you won't sleep on the floor tonight'.
He admitted defeat and climbed into bed, Legolas snuggling into his chest as soon as his head had hit the pillow. He stroked the messed up strands of blonde hair and kissed his son good night.
The bed wasn't built for two warriors and an elfling, but it would do for tonight. They were warm and safe and soon lulled to sleep by Legolas' breathing evened out in elven dreams ans they followed him without another word and weren't haunted by nightmares for once.

And so they won't begrudge Legolas in the morning for not making himself very small at all as he actually slept like a starfish and nudged them with arms and legs in the process.

Chapter Text

„Oropher is dead, as are two thirds of his army.“

Glorfindels short, but cruel report repeated itself in his head as he walked through falling ash and semi darkness to the woodland realms tents. It was no short walk to Orophers elves, they had made camp at the outer side of their alliance and it was a sad sight that greeted him upon his arrival.
Glorfindel had been right, it wasn't something you needed to count, there were only few elves left, all of them seemed to be injured and the haunted eyes of those who had survived told him everything he needed to know. It had been slaughter, nothing else. Damn Oropher and that stubborn head of his, even if he had payed the highest price for it today.

Círdan stopped in front of the kings tent, guarded by two elves and began to explain that he was here to help and therefore needed to see their king, as the tent flap opened and Thranduil stood directly in front of him.
He was pale, blue eyes red rimmed and a bloody bandage wrapped around his left hand. His face and clothes clean, his back straight and a crown of dry branches on top of his head. He had a determined look on his face and a sword at his hip.
Galion and Berion flanked him on each side, both as shaken but determined as their king. His respect for those three young elves grew and he bowed his head.
“Aran Thranduil my deepest condolences for your great losses, I am here to lend advise and help if you are in need of it.”
Thranduil looked at him with an unreadable expression before he spoke in a voice more steady than it had any right to be: “Thank you. We are on our way to Highking Gil-galad to speak about our next moves. If you want to accompany us, you are welcome.”

And so they went back the exact same way he had walked mere minutes ago. The new king didn't speak, didn't smile, but by the time they reached their destination his eyes were clear and his face as if made of stone. Círdan should learn in the centuries that followed this war, that this would be the sight for every other elf or men or dwarf who met this once so joyful creature full of laughter and mischief. The sight of a cold and intimidating elf, unapproachable, hart and not visibly interested in the needs of others.
Only a few beside his own folk and wood would be selected to see the warm soul behind that icy glare, feel the soft touch behind the hard expression and hear his delighted laughter instead of his reserved and emotionless voice. The older elf was glad to be one of those, even if they didn't meet often after this war, but when they did, he could see the sparkling in his eyes, while Galion rolled his discretely and Berion needed all of his willpower to not slap them both on the back of their heads in public.

But right now was just the beginning of his era and he was still shaken, wounded and exhausted, but waved down their condolences and told them what he had to say.
They would stay. They won't abandon them, even if it was clear for everyone to see, that he wanted nothing more than to lead his people home, back into their beloved forest and away from the dark memories this place now hold for them. But they would stay and fight, because they were still able to help.

Chapter Text

„Legolas?“
Legolas froze midstep and asked himself why he was able to snuck up on an orc from behind, in the silence of a autumn night in the middle of the forest without a sound, but wasn't able to sneak past his fathers closed office door unnoticed.
“Legolas?”
He tilted his head back, thought something rude about the Valar and tried to pull down his shirt sleeve some more before he opened the door and leaned casually against its frame, hiding his left arm and smiling innocently.
“Hi Ada.”
Thranduil looked at him with an unreadable expression and Legolas needed all of his willpower not to shift uncomfortably from one feet to the other.
“Shouldn't you be asleep little leaf?”
“Um, yes? But I couldn't and then I decided to take a short walk.”
“A short walk?” Thranduil looked at the moon high up in the sky and turned curiously back to his son. “For hours?”
“Yes?”
“Legolas.”
“Ada.”
He knew he made a mistake as soon as the single word left his mouth, wrong tone. Definitely the wrong tone.
“Enter, please.”
Legolas tried to step carelessly into the room, but he knew that his father had already seen anything he needed to see. Probably he could simply wish him a good night, turn around and leave. He was of age after all! Well, almost. Damn it.
“How many?”
Legolas studied the floor at his feet, tracing one of the more pronounced lines in the stone with his left one, before he realized what he was doing and stopped immediately.
“Maybe half of them, hadn't had a look.”
He felt very small all of a sudden and hold his breath; waiting for the explosion to come and blew him away. But nothing happened. No angry voice questioning him, no harsh words. How angry was his father, when he stayed silent?
He didn't dare to have a look at his fathers face. He heard the soft rustling of clothes as his father stood from behind his desk and came over. Then he saw the deep green of his robes pooling at his feet as he stopped in front of him.
Gentle and warm fingers pushed his face up and he had no other choice than to look into his fathers eyes.
He wasn't angry. The only emotions clearly visible were concern and sympathy.
“Let me have a look. It won't do any good if we ignore it.”
Legolas sat down in front of the fire and starred into the flames while Thranduil unwrapped the former white bandage around his forearm.
“Well, it is more of two thirds than a half, but no bad guess. Stay here while I fetch the things I need to redo your stitches.”
He nodded, where should he go anyway? It wasn't as if his father wouldn't find him wherever he decided to hide within the forest.

“I am sorry” he mumbled some time later as Thranduil pushed the needle a last time through his skin and cut the seam expertly after tying it into a knot.
“For what? Lying to me? Hurting yourself while punishing yourself when you should have rested instead? For getting wounded?”
Still there was no heat behind those words, just well-meant curiosity because his father cared for him.
Legolas shrugged.

Thranduil bandaged his arm and pulled the sleeve back down before he sat down next to his son. There he prodded so long until Legolas finally gave in and leaned fully against his father; head resting against his shoulder.
“What are you sorry for Legolas?”
Legolas thought about it and couldn't really decide for an answer. “I should have been more useful. Should have been more alert and faster.” And after a short pause: “And I shouldn't have lied to you.”
“I agree with you on the last point. The others are a little bit harder to evaluate because I wasn't there. But after everything that was reported to me you didn't any worse than the others and got the situation swiftly back under control after those first few moments of surprise and indecision. Neither you nor one of the others is to blame for such a reaction. You were alone without an experienced soldier at your side on a simple scouting mission that should have no enemy contact at all.”
“Yeah, but Berion isn't lecturing us about being ever watchful every time we set our feet outside of the bed for fun, isn't he? We should have expected them. Wouldn't it have been for Aegnor and his patrol things would have gone much worse.”

There wasn't much he could say against that, because Legolas was right. They had to expect Orcs or other foul creatures everywhere in their forest, but that didn't mean there weren't parts they declared momentarily safe. Like the one his son and the other warriors in training had scouted today as part of their training. Hadn't Aegnor and his warriors been near and came immediately after Legolas cry for help had reached them through the trees the outcome of five young elves against nearly 30 Orcs would have been much different.

“As I am not able to argue with that, I can only reassure you that a situation like this will never happen to you again. You learned a lesson today and will never walk through this forest again as you have until this morning. It was a hard lesson but one that will alert you to anything that isn't as it should be.”
Legolas thought for a moment about it, but nodded after a few seconds.
Thranduil slung his arm around his sons smaller shoulders and laid his head on top of his. Then he pulled him a little closer until he could embrace him fully; Legolas moved simply with him and leaned heavily against his fathers chest.

They sat like that for some time in silence, watching the flames until Thranduil spoke again in a soft voice.
“Don't compare yourself with warriors worth hundredths of years experience in fighting, surviving and compensating the horrors of what they saw in the war. Watch them, learn from them and remember them, but never compare yourself with them.
No one ever walked the path that lays in front of you, because it is yours.
No one ever walked the path you have already left behind you, because it is yours.
There are a lot of elves walking next to you, sharing experiences and memories with you, but none of them will be identically to you.
There will be things you are the very best at, nearly brilliant with an ease that will make others look small next to you. And then there will be things you are at the very end, behind all the others without a clue what to do.
But all this is absolutely all right, because it makes you who you are.
You are my son and I am so proud of every step you took so far and as long as you get up every new day in harmony with the person you have become this will not change.
You don't have to be perfect or impress anyone. You just have to be yourself with everything that is still there to be learned and explored.
I love you Legolas and can not think about something that would be able to change that.”

Legolas breathed out heavily, not trusting his voice and so he settled down some more against his father and sneaked his good arm around his waist until he was as comfortable as possible. Thranduil smiled and gave his son a soft kiss on top of his head, totally content to sit here nect to him in front of the fire through the darkness of night.

Chapter Text

„Are you insane?“ Berion bellowed, but wasn't granted an answer. He tried to sit up a little bit straighter, though his obviously broken wrist won't support his weight and with the other arm still chained to the wall at shoulder high, he sacked inelegantly back to the ground.

“Stop complaining, I don't know how long the others will be able to...”
A low whistle interrupted Legolas and he listened intently for a while before he cursed softly and began to pick the old and rusty lock in all haste again. It didn't take him long to finish the job, but he was interrupted by some Orcs, before he could help Berion to his feet and got him out of the small cell. There wasn't enough space for his bow, or even a sword, and so he attacked them with his twin knives, movements so fast, that the foul creatures weren't able to make a single sound before they dropped to the ground. The two elves were absolutely silent afterwards, but couldn't hear if there were some more Orcs coming. It was hard to tell from where noises came into the small room, echoing back and forth through narrow and winded tunnels and so Legolas vanished through the doorway for a short moment, before he came back in and knelt down next to Berion, who still sat slumped before the wall, which had held him captive by almost two weeks by now.
Legolas inspected the raw wrist first and then the broken one, while he whispered an apology without meeting his mentors eyes: “ I am sorry Berion, we've been watching the area for the whole time, but haven't been able to find a way in. There wasn't anything we could do, the Orcs won't be distracted by anything we did long enough to find you. We wanted to come sooner and tried a few times, but they never left you unguarded.”
Berion touched Legolas' hand with his own to reassure him. He knew the feeling. The helplessness and anger, knowing that no words of his could do something against it right now.
And even if he was very thankful for the elf in front of him to be here to safe him, he couldn't suppress the anger building inside him. Why Legolas? Why had they sent their prince into the midst of a large number of enemies?

“And this was your best idea? Sending you of all elves, all alone and surrounded by enemies?” he growled.
Now Legolas met his eyes for the first time and had the boldness to smirk openly at him: “Oh I am not all alone, you don't know the full extent of our plan and as you can see, it works out well so far. But you are right, we should get going before those foul creatures are coming back.”

Berion looked questioningly at him, but Legolas just smiled: “Better for your heart rate if you don't know anything. Are you injured anywhere else?”
A sharp whistle from somewhere not too far away interrupted them and Legolas vanished again, with his knives ready and all mischief gone from his expression, as he left his mentor alone once more.

Berion listened intently to the sounds of fighting, while he tried to stimulate the blood flow in the hand that had been chained to the wall. If he wanted to be of any use, he needed one hand at least; it hurt as much as he had anticipated, but he needed to get out of here. Two weeks of darkness and -unexpected mild- bodily harm had left their mark, more on his soul than his body, and he wanted nothing more than to go home. He pushed himself into a standing position and leaned against the cold stone wall with his back as he had reached his goal. Even mild torture in combination with lack of food and water did funny things to your body and it protested against the simple movement of getting on his feet again. His head spun and the darkness seemed to flow around him in wave patterns, while the rushing in his ears drowned out any other sound.
And all of a sudden someone was reaching out for him. Laeron. Who had been wise enough to reach for his fae first, before Berion felt a warm hand at his neck and then the sensation was gone, but replaced immediately by a much cooler hand at the same spot and an equally cool forehead against his. Legolas this time. Even if he could feel Laeron hovering nearby now that he was aware of him. Should have known that he would be here, too. Pot and kettle, the two of them. Which meant that Gelir and Maedor would be somewhere near, too. Those four could fill a complete kitchen cabinet.

“I am sorry, but we need to get going. You can rest soon, I promise, but our distraction had to withdraw. It was too dangerous and so we need to hurry.”

Berion nodded and straightened himself, ending the physical connection to Legolas himself and looked at him with an raised eyebrow. His usual feared glare seemed to lack its usual intensity, because Legolas solemn expression turned into a smile, eyes brimming with mirth as he denied him an answer: “Oh no, I will not tell you what we have done. I am not the one responsible for this mission and so I will not say a word. Or, I am not responsible for this special part of our mission.”
And then the two younger elves' body language changed at the same moment; both in full battle mode again, as something seemed to have happened, which his clouded mind hadn't registered yet.

They left the small cell and moved unseen and near silent through a dark corridor until they could see a small point of light growing steadily bigger in the distance.
So deep in the forest it meant a fire, because the sun wasn't able to shine that bright through the thick foliage of leaves and Berion tensed, while the other two simply tightened their hold on him and urged him forward gently but firm.
No shadow darkened the entrance and they didn't stop until they were just a short distance away. Legolas detached himself from the small group without a word and they could see his silhouette in front of the light before it vanished. They waited in tense silence and pressed to the wall, so nobody coming from inside the old tunnel system would be able to see them right away, until a low birdcall indicated that they should follow. Legolas awaited them with his bloody knives still drawn and some death Orcs at his feet.

Berion took a deep breath as soon as he had left the wet and musty corridor, the air outside his prison still not as good as it would be near their home, but definitely better than under the earth.

“We have to hurry. The others are all gone. Gelir gave the sign of leaving as I killed the last one of those” Legolas told them in a whisper “And if nothing has changed he was the last to leave, when everyone else was safe. Excluding us.”

Laeron nodded and before Berion could make out more, they were on their way up into the trees. They guided him carefully through the leaves, mindful of his battered state and it didn't take long for other members of their rescue party to join and help them. Gelir stopped shortly to tell them, that everybody had made it to the meeting point, before he and two others vanished again, scouting back to make sure that nobody was following them.
Berion couldn't tell how much time had passed since their escape, but he felt his small reservoir of energy rapidly draining. There were more steadying hands on his arms and the small of his back, whispered voices in his ear, telling him that they were nearly there, that the way wasn't long anymore. And he believed them.

And suddenly they stopped and he found himself in a tight embrace, encircled by two strong and familiar arms. He relaxed and wouldn't mind to stay like that for the nearer future, but was interrupted way too early.

“I am really sorry, again, to disturb your reunion, but we need to get going again. We aren't safe yet. As you should know, adar.”
Legolas must be joking. Thranduil was here, so they must be at home. Where else should Thranduil be? Their king. He won't be so stupid and leave the safety of their well guarded mountain.
He pushed himself away wincing and saw himself surrounded by Legolas' patrol and Thranduils personal guard - deep within their forest, near the enemy line.

“You were the distraction.” Berion stated simply, barely unable to contain the anger building deep within him.
Thranduil smiled happily, eyes twinkling: “Yes. It worked out wonderfully well! And have a look, not a single scratch.”
He turned around himself once to proof his point.
Legolas starred in slight disbelieve at his fathers antics.

“He will skin you alive as soon as he is healed enough.”
Thranduil shrugged lightly but was interrupted before he could answer his son.

“You are insane!” Berion bellowed. “Even more so than your son! And I didn't thought that possible until this very moment!
Do not interrupt me!”
Legolas shut his mouth again without making a sound, wiser than to disobey in a moment like this.

“They could have take you captive! You could have been injured or killed! And you, too!” he snapped at the two royals standing side by side, bearing their dressing down more amused than they would ever admit out loud. But Berion wasn't finished.
“Who should have taken the crown after you were gone?”

“Probably you? We would have made sure that you got out of there before our ends”, Legolas suggested innocently, even if it was clear to all of them, that the question had been rhetorical.

“Or Galion. He knows more than the three of us together anyway” Thranduil continued and the two of them seemed truly satisfied with their answers.

Berion looked at them in slight disbelieve, but must admit defeat as the tight knot of fury inside him turned into something warm and comfortable.
“Thank you” he whispered; not looking up, even if he knew that none of the warriors would think poorly of his moment of weakness. Not a single one of them would do so, he had trained all the younger ones and fled, fought and built a knew home with the older.
And then he was embraced again, this time there were two pairs of arms encircling him, but just Thranduil spoke in a low voice, only for the three of them to hear.
“We will safe you again if the need occurs. We will never abandon you or leave you behind. You are part of our family and I wouldn't have been able to survive the last thousands of years without you. Never forget that my old friend.”

They parted a few moments later and Berion looked questioningly at Legolas, who had remained silent. The younger elf tilted his head slightly and grinned: “Do not look at me, like I needed to say something, too. I have nothing to add to fathers words and I thought that pointing out that I wouldn't have had as much bruises as I had the last centuries without you didn't seem appropriate.”

Berion slapped him at the back of his head and Thranduil laughed as his son hurriedly stepped out of harms way and took over command again, signaling his warriors to escort their king and his oldest friend back home.

Chapter Text

„Legolas, I swear by anything that I keep sacred, that I will leave your room in exact five minutes. If you are asleep or not doesn't matter.”

Legolas, as expected ignored him and Thranduil breathed in deeply before he began to count the seconds in his head. He was exhausted and Legolas wasn't easily convinced to sleep at the moment. There were a thousands things that needed to be told, a hundred questions that needed an answer immediately and tenth of times he needed to drink some water. Most often only one sip before Thranduil had to put the cup back down and cuddle with his son, who laid next to him, eyes wide open to minimize the chance of falling asleep, before he needed to drik something again, now.
Putting his son to bed could stretch easily to a length of more or less two hours.

He was telling a story about an Oliphaunt right now, barely audible and Thranduil remembered himself to stay calm. He would sleep sometime tonight. Most likely within the next half an hour and he would leave soon, he had warned his son. There were 30 seconds left until he would leave the room, this time he would really do it. There was nothing that would hold him back, he had announced that he would go and he needed to do it. He needed to be consequent, he could be consequent with his advisors and warriors, so it shouldn't be a problem to act like this with an elfling, too.

He prepared himself to stand up as his son, who had been curled up on his side with his back to Thranduil rolled around and climbed easily on top of Thranduil. Who was too stunned for a moment to react, they laid belly on belly, his sons ear pressed firmly against the spot where his heartbeat could be heard best and mumbled: “I love you Ada. You love me, too, right? Galion says you do. Berion, too. I love the both of them. But I think not as much as I love you. Because you are my Ada. They are not. But I love them. Yes. Can I love Laeron, too? He is my friend. Am I allowed to love my friends? I think Laeron would be really sad if I don't love him. We have never said that we love us. Can we go to him and tell him that I love him, too? And Maedor. And Gelir. And the cook. I love our cook Limion, he makes the best cakes ever! And I love Galdissien, do you know her? She is cleaning up all the official rooms and she always carries treats with her in her pockets and she gives them to us. Oh. But I wasn't supposed to tell you that, she said it is our secret. Can you keep a secret Ada? Laeron and I are the very best at keeping secrets. But Maedor is even better! He can look like he knows no secrets at all! I like to learn that, too.”

Legolas mumbled some more, but it wasn't understandable until he whispered another “I love you Ada.” And with that he was asleep, his eyes far away in elven dreams and half closed as it was common for elflings his age. His fists, that had grabbed his tunic relaxed and his arms fell down on the mattress, his breath deep and even.

“I love you, too. You don't even know how much, but you will hopefully someday realize, when you are a father yourself, how much one can love and how much you are loved with every breath you take. With every stubborn reaction, every angry fit you have, you are loved. I love you even while we fight and are not able to agree with each other. I love you and will do so as long as I am able to breath.”

And with that Thranduil put his arms around Legolas small frame and hold him close. He breathed in his smell and felt the warm weight of him on his chest as he felt overwhelmed again by the amount of love he felt for this small being, who could anger him so easily, but made him laugh and feel like the happiest person alive within seconds, too.
He swallowed past the lump in his throat and blinked away a tear before he settled down a little bit more comfortable and begun to walk in elven dreams, anything including advisors, a war, the load of papers that needed to be seen and a kingdom that needed to be run forgotten for the moment, as he was simply a father holding his beloved son in their sleep.

Chapter Text

„This is one of the worst ideas we’ve ever had” Maedor stated without any judgement coloring his voice.
“Living in this forest is also a bad idea and it is working out quite well so far” Legolas answered and the other elf just inclined his head slightly. All of them knew that it wasn’t well at all compared to other elven realms, but they loved their home and would never abandon it, which had led them to their current situation.
The four of them sat high up in the trees in one of the darkest parts of the forest. No birds could be heard and the trees, too were silent. They had succumbed to the darkness surrounding them a long time ago.
They had been sent out to investigate one of their enemies’ support routes, which helped the Orcs to maintain a constant line of attack on one of their weaker borders.
It had taken them days to find what they had come for and it was more than they had anticipated. There was a big camp here, right under their feet. The clearing was filled with hundredths of the black creatures, their lackeys, wagons with weapons and food. Ever so often troops were sent out, packed with supplies on their way to support in the ongoing battle.

“Speaking of bad ideas, I guess you will be the one running through the camp with a torch at hand to burn it down?” Laeron asked, already trying to figure out a way to tell Thranduil that his son had went bad shit crazy from one minute to the other and got himself killed through pure stupidity in the progress.
Legolas smirked: “Nope.”
His friend breathed out in relief.
“The four of us will do it together, it will be far more effective to start the fire at as many places as possible at the same time.”
Laeron closed his eyes and thought about the positive side of the plan, meaning that there wouldn’t be left enough of him at all to report to Thranduil afterwards.
“Do we have a strategy or are we simply running through it, causing as much havoc as we can?”
Gelir seemed to be delighted by the idea and Laeron thought that he was the only one of them with some kind of self-preservation instinct. Maedor simply didn’t know any kind of fear, because he thought nothing to be more dangerous than himself; Gelir found fun in anything, the more damage done, the better and Legolas was… well insane. And totally clueless when it came to reasonable actions, like hurry back the way they’d come and get some reinforcements before coming back here with a better plan.
“And how” he tried for one last time “do you want to burn down their whole camp without torches or something similar?”

Legolas blue eyes turned to him, twinkling with mischief and replied far too excited: “We will use those and ignite them on their own campfires. And now we should hurry, because we were discovered.”

He had snapped off two dry branches of the tree they were hiding into while he spoke and a lot of ugly heads turned around in their direction, alerted through the loud noise Legolas’ doing had caused. Laerons mouth fell open in disbelieve and horror, while Gelir ran off with a whoop, breaking off two more branches from another tree some distance away to confuse the enemy and Maedor vanished into the opposite direction with a smile on his lips.
Laeron still stood frozen at the same spot as the first arrows came flying in his direction, shaking him out of his stupor. And then he huffed, scanned the area to his right and took off at a run through the crowns of the trees. He rounded the large camp nearly half before he helped himself to some branches and drooped to the ground behind one of the wagons. The other three were a wonderful distraction and so he was able to alight the branches in his hands unseen. He ran to the nearest wagon and threw one of his torches into it without locking back.
The Orcs were totally unprepared for an attack and it was nearly to easy to destroy their camp. He saw Legolas jumping down from another tree with two new branches he could use as a torch; he ducked just in time to avoid contact with one of the Orcs scimitars and vanished behind one of the many fires already burning bright. Laeron searched for his other two friends and caught glimpses of them before he, too needed to get going again.

“Can you please stop laughing for one second, so I can have a look at those burns?” Laeron said, but couldn’t stop grinning himself. The four of them sat a good distance away from the former supply camp of the Orcs, all of them covered in ash and with small burns making themselves known now, that the adrenalin was fading.
“Have you seen the explosion? It was brilliant!” Gelir exclaimed and Legolas laughed harder, he was near the point where he stopped making noises while laughing.
“It was huge!”

They had come together back in the camp as they had destroyed most of the wagons to work out a plan how they could do more damage than that. They had been able to destroy most of their enemies supplies, but not the enemy itself with the fire and Legolas had recognized that the Orcs which weren’t searching for the four of them, were frantically trying to put out the flames on one specific wagon with their last water reserves. And so, their Prince had stopped midsentence, broke another branch from their momentary hiding place and took off at a run, straight through a bulk of Orcs, sure footed running over their shoulders, before he dropped down between them, causing even more confusion. Maedor had run after him without a second thought, ordering the other two away and seek shelter, he would bring Legolas back. They had obeyed immediately, finding a sturdy looking rock formation not too far away, where they waited for the return of their friends, standing on top of it. It didn’t take long before Laeron saw some movement above the ground in the trees and whistled sharply. The other two yelled at them to seek cover and dropped down next to them the same moment as a mighty explosion rocked the world around them.

“It was their wagon with explosives! And no, I haven’t seen it. Someone laid on top of me for some reason” Laeron said and glared at Maedor, who smiled innocently.
“Not my fault. Legolas shoved me and the explosion did the rest.”
“Yeah, blame it on me. You would have been roasted otherwise. We need to talk with Berion, you are getting slow.”
Maedor raised an eyebrow, while Gelir doubled over laughing and Laeron took a step back from Legolas, so to not stand in the direct line between the two Captains and in high risk to be mowed over and end as causality.
“We will talk about this again, after you have reported to your father what we have done today. I guess you, too will not be fast enough when he decides to lock you in the stronghold forever afterwards.”
Legolas paled. “We will never tell him what we have done. Never. Understood? We found the camp and destroyed it. Nothing else. Not one word.”
“And you think he will be satisfied with that?”
“No, but he won’t get more information. We had a job and we did it. Easy.”

They sat in silence for a short while until Gelir couldn’t help himself and began to laugh again.
Maedor huffed and threw a dry pinecone at him, which only made him laugh harder.
“Thranduil will kill us.”
Legolas shrugged “Probably, but he isn’t the first one to try that and so we have some experience on our side.”
Laeron slapped him at the back of his head. “Not funny. We need to form a plan on our way back. A good one.”
“You’re sure you want us to make another one? Our last plan was one of the worst one’s ever.”
Another pinecone flew and the four of them started their way back home grinning.

Chapter Text

„You’ve done what exactly?“
„I drugged his drink with a light sedative.”
“You’ve drugged Thranduil?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve. Drugged. Thranduil.”
Galion turned to Berion with one eyebrow raised “Yes, I have.”
Berion starred at him and rubbed a hand over his own tired eyes shakily.
“Should have done it with your drink, too by the look of it.”
Berion shot him a withering glare “You don’t dare to do that.”
Galion snorted: “I just drugged our king, you think I fear your wrath more than his? But I need someone who runs the warriors with Thranduil asleep and so you have to stay awake for a little while longer. Otherwise I would have done it without a second thought.”

The two of them looked in direction of said elf and it seemed that he had a hard time listening to anything his advisors were saying. Galion nodded in satisfaction, the herbs seemed to work and Thranduil would retire soon, hopefully before he passed out in front of an audience. That was the only risk he couldn’t have avoided, but he hadn’t had another chance. The war against the ever-spreading darkness had reached a new level of intensity and as far as he could tell Thranduil hadn’t truly slept in days. Probably it was over a week by now; he tried to make him rest multiple times, but to no avail, he had simply ignored him and anyone else telling him to rest. And so, Galion grabbed some herbs unobtrusively as he had been with the healers to get a report about their injured for Berion yesterday, promising himself to use them at the first given opportunity.
Which had been down in the kitchen about an hour ago, as a single glass of Dorwinion wine was prepared and he had offered to take it to Thranduil because he needed to get back to him anyway and they mustn’t send someone up for a single glass. Nobody had questioned him or his intentions, because it wasn’t uncommon for him to do things like that, and so he had walked out of there, but instead of walking back directly he had stopped in an abandoned corridor and slipped the crushed herbs into his kings’ wine.
Thranduil had drunk the red without hesitation and Galion was quite proud of himself until Berion had tapped him on the shoulder, a serious expression on his face and wanted to know why he starred so intently at their friend. He needed to work on his observing skills – a lot.
And here they were now, watching Thranduil struggle to the last point of today’s audience together. Berion massaged his temples and looked at Galion “I don’t know anything of this, if he finds out and you pretend otherwise, you will find yourself dangling from the top of the highest tree within this forest from a rope around your feet the following morning.”
Galion inclined his head before the Warrior spoke again “And make sure he reaches his bed discretely. He looks ready to pass out right there.”
Galion nodded before he promised Berions retreating back that he would be the next one as soon as Thranduil was on his feet again after a good night’s rest.

He reached Thranduil shortly after he had entered the corridor leading to his quarters. Galion put a steading hand at the small of his kings back to support him discretely as the herbs seemed to do their job wonderfully.
“Where’ve you been?” he was asked in a raspy voice, very unlike his usually strong baritone.
“I was there for the whole time, discussing things with Berion in the back.”
Thranduil hummed. “I think I need to withdraw for a moment.”
Galion nodded, glad that his friend was way to tired by now to see through his innocent mask.
“I will make sure that no one disturbs you in the meantime.”
There wasn’t an answer to that, but he didn’t need one. He opened the doors and helped Thranduil to get rid of the heavy cloak before laying down with a sight. His eyes glazed over instantly and Galion sighted in relief. He had drugged his king, friend or not, Thranduil would be truly pissed if he found out. But he wouldn’t. Berion would never give him away and Thranduil hadn’t noticed. He must believe that.

“What ‘ave you done?” Berion all but slurred as he turned his head slowly in Galions direction, he had a white knuckled grip on the back of a chair and seemed ready to pass out any second.
“I… what?”
“You did it.”
“I’ve done what?”
“You’ve done some… some…” he needed to breath in deeply before he could continue “something in my drink.”
Galion froze, this what not happening. Berion would give him away in front of Thranduil because his more than exhausted body was at the brink of collapsing and he needed someone blameworthy.
“I have done nothing to anyone, but may I suggest that you go and lay down for a moment? I will gladly help you to your bed.” And out of their king’s earshot.
Berion nearly growled at him, but Thranduil interceded before another word was spoken.
“I did it. I literally ordered you to get some sleep, but you wouldn’t listen. So, I had to do something, it is your own fault. And now accept Galions offer of help and lay down before you fall down.”
Galion grabbed Berions elbow and led him slowly out of the room.
“Come on and I promise you, that you don’t want to go that way. It is a doorframe you are aiming at. What did he give you? A horse sedative?”
The slightly smaller elf took some more of Berions weight and readjusted their path to make sure that they didn’t crash into anything, before he realized what Thranduil had said.

He froze midstep, jostling Berion in the progress, but he was so out of it, that he simply stumbled to a halt next to him without protest.
Galion didn’t turn around, even if it was the only way to find out if his suspicion was true, but Thranduil had definitely known what the two of them were talking about, which meant, that he knew about his doings from a few days ago. He was screwed.
He closed his eyes shortly and breathed in deeply before he turned around without letting Berion crumble helplessly to the ground.
Thranduil sat behind his desk, directing his predatory and knowing grin directly at him. Ice blue eyes twinkling with amusement and all of a sudden Galion felt like prey. Which he probably was. He tried to smile back self-confident, but failed spectacularly as he jumped at the unexpected voice of Berion.
“I will cut you down from the tree if Thranduil will tie you up there, as I wanted to do.” He mumbled groggily and Galion huffed in amusement at his friends words. What a comforting thought that someone would come for him after Thranduil would be done with whatever he intended to do. Dangling from the top of the highest tree didn’t look to bad when you knew that someone would come to safe you, probably he could be able to enjoy the view from up there while he had nothing else to do anyway. His days were rather busy for years, it was a chance for some rest.
Probably he could believe himself as soon as he found shelter somewhere, where Thranduil would never find him; with Galadriel or some dwarfs or in the cellars of the Orcs.

Chapter Text

Legolas shook violently and tried to suppress the chattering of his teeth by biting his lips, but to no avail. The more he tried to act otherwise, the more the effects of the poison seemed to make themselves known.
He moved a little bit, so he could press his palms against his eyes without taking his elbows from their place on his tights and was greeted with intense pain from every muscle he needed to achieve his goal. Ai Yavanna, how he hated this.

He heard the opening of the door and the rustling of clothes behind him – which hurt his ears – but hadn’t the energy to turn around and have a look at whoever had come to him. It was most unlikely that an enemy creature would have been able to sneak into the living room he shared with his father and so it was either Galion, Berion or his father himself; but he bet it was the second.

“You are burning up. I haven’t even touched you and I can feel the heat radiating off of you.”
Legolas would have clapped himself on the shoulder in triumph, had he been able to muster the energy to move his hand all the way up there and back.
“Cold.” He replied in a raspy voice and heard as Berion stepped around the divan he was currently sitting at to kneel down in front of him. Even if he knew that the older elf was there he flinched as a cool hand was pressed to his forehead.
“ ‘m sorry, I… I… didn’, didn’t…”
“Hush, its alright. I should have told you what I intended to do. Look at me, Legolas, please.”
No. He would not. Moving hurt. A lot. He wouldn’t do that.
“Legolas look at me.” This time more intense, not a request anymore.
He couldn’t, even if he wanted to. Every muscle in his body screamed in pain from the simple act of breathing.
“Greenleaf.”
He knew that tone, but couldn’t help himself. He wasn’t one to disobey an order or a request. Equally from whom it came, as long as the person was in charge in that moment. It didn’t matter if it was Berion giving his Captain a new order or one of the kitchen staff who told him to take the garbage with him on his way out.
“Can’t.” He whispered, speaking too seemed to get harder with every passing second, which scared him somewhat. He knew that he was safe, but it didn’t feel like that. He wanted to feel safe, he needed to feel safe, because he was home. He needed –
“Shhh. Its alright. Don’t go wherever your thoughts try to carry you. You are not alone and I will not leave your side until your father is here or you wish me to go. I am here with you, you are safe here. Shhh.”
Legolas clung to those words and relaxed a bit, his concentration fixated on Berions steady voice and the hand that was still presses against his bare skin.
“Good, that’s way better. I still need you to look at me, Thranduilion.”
His head seemed heavier than the rock formation they called their home, but somehow, he found the strength to lift it long enough to look into Berions concerned, but relieved face for a few seconds, before he got back into his former position.
“Too bright, hur’s.”
“I know.” Only that he didn’t. He had never endured this, neither had Thranduil, but the both of them had dragon fire on their side, so the small lie didn’t matter, Legolas was to out of it to question the truth of his words anyway.
“It will get better and until then I am here, you are not alone.”
Legolas simply hummed as an answer, it got harder to form sentences in his head, let alone say them.

Berion looked at him in concern, the younger elf was shivering violently even if he sat in front of a burning fire and he was as much curled up on himself as he had managed to do. He had been injured with a poisoned Orc arrow and while it wouldn’t kill him, it run havoc within his body. It was meant to make the Orcs pry defenseless until they reached Dol Guldur and could throw the poor being into a cell for torturing later. The symptoms would lessen within the next two to three days and until then they could only numb the pain with herbs and sleep for most of the time. If Legolas would allow it, he hated the pain numbing and sleeping herbs with all he had. Berion could absolutely understand that, their effects made it hard to hear the trees and feel the fae of those around you and it was one of the most terrifying experiences to be cut off of something that is as much a part of you as an arm or leg.
His hand still rested on his princes burning forehead and he let it slid down to his shoulder in an attempt to gain his attention again for another conversation.
“Legolas, are you still with me?”
A nearly inaudible hum was the answer.
“I would like to get you to bed, so you can rest properly. Sitting here must be agony. Are you okay with that?”
This time he got no reaction at all and so he lifted him up very, very carefully without losing physical contact for a second until he held him securely to his chest and was able to carry him the short distance to his bedroom. He laid him down gently and pushed some sweat soaked hair out of the younger elves face, where deep lines of pain showed in how much agony he was, before he ever so gently pried Legolas fingers away from his tunic, where he had snatched it into death grip on their way here, ignoring the whimper he got as an answer.
“Hush, I will be right back. Just closing the curtains to shut out the light. Then I will put another log on the fire and grab some herbs from the table before I will be back with you.”

There wasn’t a reply, but Berion made sure to talk to Legolas while he accomplished his tasks and was surprised as he was greeted with two open eyes tracking his movements sluggishly. The pupils were still blown wide, as they had been earlier and the eyes were bloodshot, but it seemed as if the young warrior needed the confirmation that he wasn’t alone, that his mentors voice wasn’t something he imagined and so Berion slowed down and made sure to stay in his field of vision, so it was easier for him to follow his movements.

“Do you want to take something against the pain?” he asked a short while later as he knelt down in front of the bed, being on eye level with Legolas, who blinked once slowly; no.
“Should I lay down next to you?”
Legolas blinked once again and then, after a deep breath, which gave him some trouble, again; yes.
Berion smiled softly and lowered himself carefully down next to the younger elf, not jostling him even slightly. In spite of the heat that was radiating off of him, he pulled a blanket over his shivering form and Legolas sank down further into the mattress, hurting muscles relaxing somewhat. The two of them laid like that for a moment, before Legolas began to move with the last of his strength. Berion looked bewildered at the other elf until he guessed his intention and helped him to settle down his head on the spot between his shoulder and heart, where he could listen to its reassuring beat. Berion wrapped his left arm around Legolas and stroke his back in a way which comforted him since he was a small elfling.
“You could have told me, I would have helped you, so you hadn’t had to hurt yourself, you know.”
“ ‘urt. Psst.” Legolas voice was so quiet that he nearly missed it, despite them being so close together.
The older elf huffed and adjusted their blanket, which caused Legolas to whimper again.
“I am sorry little leaf, we are as comfortable as possible for now. Try to get some sleep, I will not leave you. You are home and safe. Rest now.”

Berion was out of reverie and held a small dagger in his right hand even before Thranduil had been able to put his second foot on the floor of his son’s bedroom.
“It is me old friend, I am sorry, I didn’t want to wake you” the elven King whispered and sat down on the bed next to Berion, his eyes on the still sleeping form of his son.
“Slightly on edge, aren’t we?” he teased as Berion put the dagger away again.
“They hurt him” he answered simply while making sure that he hadn’t disturbed Legolas sleep through his previous actions.
“Yes, they did, but after I heard the first short report of Maedor I am sure, that they will never hurt a single soul again.”
Berion hummed in satisfaction.
“And I am quite sure that if he hadn’t killed them, Galion would.”
Berion directed his eyes from Legolas to Thranduil and raised an eyebrow questioningly.
The blond elf smiled: “He’s rambling about going into the forest himself and strangling them with his bare hands for their attempt to kidnap his prince. Killing him in a battle is apparently a whole other thing than trying to take him captive.”
Berion huffed a laugh: “He has ever been clueless with a sword.”
“That is your only concern about him wandering all alone into the forest, trying to kill some Orcs?”
“Never underestimate a truly angered Galion as long as he is without a weapon, otherwise he’s in more danger to hurt himself than anyone else.”
Legolas began to stir and interrupted their hushed conversation. Thranduil gently placed a hand on his sons shoulder and frowned at the heat he could feel through the thin fabric of his tunic.
“Hush, little leaf, it is just us. You are safe, stay asleep.” And then to Berion “He is still burning up, haven’t the healers left some herbs for him?”
“He refused to take any.”
Thranduil rolled his eyes at that, but held up his hands in surrender before Berion could point out that he acted the same every time he was injured.
“Do you need a break from being used as a cushion?”
“Never.”
The King shook his head in fond amusement, his childhood friend wasn’t one to sit still or lay down longer than absolutely necessary, except for the times one of them was injured. Then he seemed to turn into a living piece of furniture and didn’t bother to move until they physically shoved him away, proofing that they were indeed well enough to get up again.

He thought for a short moment about his options now that Berion made clear that he would stay with his son and decided to do so as well. He got up and walked around the bed, getting out of his robe on the way and left it carelessly in a giant heap of silk and wool on the floor. He lowered himself onto the mattress carefully as not to wake his son. He studied his pained features and laid his left hand on top of his sons’ chest and the other on his forehead before he closed his eyes and asked the forest for some help. He was so entwined with it by now that it wasn’t a conscious thought to do so, the connection between them was permanent and there was no hesitation at his request, to the contrary, it was eagerly accepted. The forest loved its Prince and easing his pain while giving him strength was something it did gladly.
Berion looked at him from the corner of his eye, but Thranduil ignored him for the time being. He knew that his doings would drain him, leaving him slow and exhausted, but it was a price he would pay gladly if it helped his son through the torture he was enduring.

“It is enough Thranduil” Berions voice stated in a whisper and spoken elf looked up at his friend in confusion.
“You have done enough, he is better now. Get some rest.”
Thranduil propped himself up on one elbow to get a better look at his son. He must have retreated into reverie without noticing while still channeling the forests energy and Legolas looked indeed a bit better. The lines of pain were still there, but not as prominent and the rapid eye movement under his closed lids had stopped and his breathing was easier. It wasn’t as good as Thranduil had hoped for, but it was definitely better than before.
“Rest Thran. You’ve done enough for now.”
The Kings body relaxed on its own at the nearly forgotten childhood name and he made himself more comfortable, left hand never leaving his sons chest where he could feel his heartbeat. It comforted him, even if it was beating still way to fast, but it was beating. And it did so right underneath his hand and not in a cold and clammy dungeon after the Orcs had tortured him all day long.
He closed his eyes for a moment, breathed in deeply and released it shakily. And then there was a blanket pulled up to his shoulders and a warm hand laid there for a moment, heavy and comforting. He didn’t bother to open his eyes, he knew who it was without doing so and it was good to know that he wasn’t alone, that he had friends who knew him good enough to see his inner turmoil without him voicing it. With that he let himself drift back into reverie.

Berion and Galion shared a knowing look over the two royals in the bed between them.
“Don’t know how anyone concluded that he is a stone hearted warrior king without emotions and filled to the brim with hatred and rage. Look at him, he could be one of the…”
“Pst. Ada’s sleepin’.” Legolas mumbled in a low voice and Berion rolled his eyes.
“Hush, as you should do, too Thranduilion.”
Legolas hummed as Berion pressed a soft kiss to the side of his head and his weight grew heavier on the other elfs shoulder as he fell back asleep.

Chapter Text

Legolas tiptoed into the room, plush animal clutched tightly to his chest and his eyes directed to the ground, so to not catch someone’s eyes accidentally. He knew that he shouldn’t be here right now, but he hadn’t been able to find Galion and wanted his Ada anyway, so he had probably not really searched for the other elf. He liked him, he liked him very much, but sometimes he simply couldn’t give him the comfort he needed, even if he was so good at making him feel better, tickling him pt peppering him with kisses until any dark thoughts fled his mind and he was laughing so hard, that it hurt his belly.
But this wouldn’t do tonight. He could feel tears in his eyes and wanted nothing more than to snuggle under his father’s thick robe, being wrapped up in his warmth.
And he intended to do just that right now, rules or not.

It seemed that nobody, expect himself, had noticed Legolas yet and Thranduil preferred if it would stay like that. The Elfling knew that he wasn’t allowed to attend a council meeting, there were discussed to many things not supposed for small ears. So, there must have happened something major for him to ignore his boundaries, particularly at such a late hour.
The King risked another glance in his son’s direction, seeing instantly that he was in distress, trying to make himself as small as possible, so he wasn’t seen by anyone. Thranduil concentrated back on the council and rearranged his heavy cloak, so that he could hide his son underneath it. Even if he could do this inconspicuous, he couldn’t prevent his son from being seen from everybody while climbing up the chair to hide at his father’s side. But he wasn’t able to change that, Legolas hated to be seen in such a vulnerable state, even if most of his advisors won’t mind, neither would Thranduil. They all loved his son like the rest of the realm did, except for some of his Orophers old councilors, which would feel offended by the presence of a child, even if it was their prince. Old Lindon, or even older rules engraved deeply in their souls; he had gone rid of most of them over the centuries, making sure they found a new home in another elven realm or sail. He had never understood why they followed his father into the wood to the silvan elves, out of the city, but they had even as it seemed that they had never become happy.
A few of them were still there, way to stubborn to take any of Thranduils offers to leave without disgrace.

As Legolas was near enough to be seen by everyone Thranduil braced himself for the silence that would fall above them while they starred at his helpless and silently crying son. But it never happened, because Berion had noticed, too and spoke up a little bit louder and more disgruntled than necessary, drawing the attention to himself and giving another twist to the already tense debate. Thranduil normally hated it, when he did that but right now he could have hugged his friend. He shot him a grateful look instead and opened his cloak so Legolas could scramble onto the seat and vanish into its folds without anybody noticing.
He shifted for a moment to get comfortable, before two bare and very cold feet found their way under his tunic and came to a rest on the warmer skin of his hip and then there was some more shifting until Legolas had curled up to his satisfaction. He felt his sons frantically beating heart against his own ribcage and stroke a hand soothingly down his side. He heard some sniffling and more movement indicated that Legolas had wiped away some tears. It took all of his willpower to not look under his cloak and embrace his son tightly, instead he began to hum nearly inaudible and after some time the small body leaning against him grew heavy, indicating that Legolas had fallen asleep again.

Berion walked over casually after Thranduil had declared the council finished for tonight and began a conversation, which wasn’t uncommon and gave his King the chance to stay where he was until everybody else was gone.
“What happened?”
Thranduil shrugged. “I do not know.”
“Where is Galion?”
Thranduil knew that tone, the gruff demeanor hiding the deep concern the other elf really felt. He wasn’t angry with Galion, but worried that something had happened.
“He came in around 30 seconds after Legolas did, searching for him, but I waved him away as he was already on his way here and it would have caused a scene otherwise. And I think that Legolas didn’t bother to look where Galion could be, who had most likely been in the living room before his spider senses alarmed him, that something wasn’t like it should be.”
Berion hummed, tense muscles loosening somewhat.
Thranduil hid his smile by finally taking a look at his son. He peeled his robe away and felt warmth spreading through every bone. Legolas laid with his head against Thranduils chest, plush Olifaunt hugged tightly and fast asleep. There were dried tearstains on his cheeks and his normally smooth blond hair was a mess, Berion seemed to melt into a puddle next to them.
He extracted his son carefully out of the heavy fabric, soothing him as he began to stir in the process and whispered into his ear how much he loved him and that he was safe and that Galion found him after he had left his bed. Legolas breathing deepened once more and Thranduil stood, his sleeping son wrapped securely into his arms.

They made their way undisturbed to the royal quarters, where Galion already awaited them in front of the fire with an open bottle of wine, reading one of the books he had borrowed unannounced from the Imladris library. Probably snatched away right under Gandalfs nose and Erestors hawk like gaze, even if Thranduil had the distinct impression that the latter knew what Galion was doing and found it highly amusing. As far as he was aware of all the books found their way back again as soon as the wizard had left the hidden valley.
Berion sat down next to him and poured everyone a glass of wine, while Thranduil walked into his bedroom and laid Legolas gently down in the middle of the bed, making sure that the woolen blanket covered him completely. Legolas mumbled something unintelligible and snuggled deeper into the cushions.

“He probably fell asleep while watching Legolas. Again.” He heard Berion say to Galion slightly louder than their conversation had been otherwise, so as to make sure that he would be heard. Thranduil rolled his eyes in fond amusement and turned around to join his friends, placing his brocaded robe and handmade crown of flowers carefully on a chair on his way out.

Chapter Text

Legolas stood unmoving in the center of a clearing. An arrow knocked to his bow and a blindfold covered his eyes, his posture relaxed but ready to leap into action at any moment. Heavy rain made his task harder but he wouldn’t blame any missed shot on the weather. He listened intently for every sound that indicated where he had to aim at.
He waited patiently for the soft clinking of a clay ball being tossed in the air and that had nearly been his downfall. He had no time to put away his bow, but pushed his arrow back in it’s quiver out of sheer reflex – never drop a weapon that could be dangerous on itself – before he draw his twin knives, dodging the first strike of a sword with difficulty before he was able to adjust himself. He felt the tip of a sword hitting his ribs hard enough to leave a bruise and blocked the second attack.
How could he have been so stupid? But there was no time at all to berate himself any further because his opponent didn’t let him; he needed every ounce of concentration to stand up against the attacks he couldn’t see and stay sure footed on the slippery ground.
He found his rhythm after those first few seconds of hurried panic and kept easy track of the noises which indicated where the next blow would come from. He even managed to break his defensive position twice and heard his opponent’s sword being sheathed after the third time he attacked.

Legolas breathed in deeply and relaxed his muscles, ready to put his knives away, when he heard the unmistakable sound of a clay ball being thrown high in the air.
What in Yavanna’s name?
He froze for a moment, because he had no clue where exactly he had dropped his bow earlier, when the trees began to nudge him in the right direction. He simply ran, because listening to them was his only chance and skidded to a halt when the clay ball had started to fall down again. He ducked and his fingers brushed over wood between the wet grass. He grabbed his bow, pulled an arrow out of his quiver and turned around in one fluid movement, fingers releasing the string without hesitation. The satisfying shatter of clay could be heard and he sent a short thanks to the trees before he concentrated back on his task.

The young elf felt totally drained as a short whistle announced the end of this lesson and he loosened his blindfold hesitantly to face the judgement of his weapons master. Who stood only a short distance away, wearing an unreadable expression on his face without saying a single word.
Legolas looked down at the blindfold in his hands, hiding behind the task of folding the plain fabric neatly into a small and accurate square, even if it was a ridiculous thing to do, because he needed to unfold it for drying later anyway.
As no words came he looked up again and met the eyes in front of him, only being vaguely aware of the other warriors in training at the edge of the clearing and looked down again.

“What do you think about your performance today?”
“I should never have dropped the bow so carelessly, if it hadn’t been for the trees I would have never been able to retrieve it in time.”
Legolas felt like a fool as he pointed out his failures, but knew that he would learn from them and would never make those mistakes again. He breathed out before he looked up and spoke again: “I should have anticipated that first attack. I should have been aware of the possibility that the situation developed in a totally different direction than I first thought.”
That was the first thing the young warriors were told over and over again, to look for the whole picture of a fight, to never get stuck with an idea at how a fight might proceed, because they seldom did. He really wanted to knock some sense into himself, how could he have been so ignorant?

“Do you have something else to add?” Berion asked, face still unreadable.
Legolas thought frantically. “I should have moved faster after the first attack and should have avoided being hit; the sword might have been be poisoned.”

Berion still didn’t say a word but made the others come closer with a small wave of his hand. As they were all gathered around him his expression changed and Legolas frowned.

“Where is the elfling?”
Thranduil didn’t bother to look up from his reading, because Berion hadn’t bothered to knock and so wasn’t invited, as he answered.
“He excused himself after dinner, because he wanted to read a book Gandalf had told him about the last time he visited.”
Berion looked puzzled. “He wanted to do what?”
“Read. What have you done to him?”
Thranduil still hadn’t looked up and Berion got the distinct impression that his friend was mad at him on behalf of his son, if intentionally or not was a question for later.
“I praised him. In front of all the other warriors in his class and one of your captains.”
Warriors, not warriors in training, so they would be ready soon, Thranduil thought before he registered the rest of the sentence and looked up sharply.
“Thranduil he passed the blindfolded changing! But the only things he saw, were his failures. He dropped the bow, yes but he survived! Very important if you ask me. And not just that, he recovered so fast that my first blow with the sword just left a bruise on his rips before he began to attack! Blindfolded. In heavy rain. And then he hit every single clay ball. But the only things he had to say afterwards were, that he should have guesses the change of attack, dropped his bow and only found it again with the help of the trees. Infuriating creature. He passed Thranduil. On his first try! And now he is sulking because he wasn’t good enough for his own standards. I can count on one hand how many elves passed on their first try!”

Thranduil watched in amusement, but didn’t bother to listen to the rest of his friends ranting as he began to laugh. Because the elf in front of him had reacted exactly like his son today, after Oropher had tested them so many centuries ago. The both of them had passed at their first try, too but just barely.
And while Thranduil himself had been totally content with the outcome, Berion had been furious and made a beeline for his room, telling them he needed to answer some letters, but was definitely just too upset out of nearly the same reasons as his son was tonight.
He had to laugh harder at Berion’s confused expression and composed himself enough to remember him at his own doings such a long time ago, before he had to laugh again.
Berion looked annoyed at his friend and muttered something about helping the elfling, because Gandalf’s choice of books was often hard lecture and vanished in direction of Legolas room, leaving an highly amused Thranduil alone once more.

Chapter Text

„That was slightly embarrasing.“
„Just slightly?
„Yes.“
„Hmm.“
Thranduil side-eyes his friend: „You perceive otherwise?”
“Yep.”
“Hmm.”

Now it was Berions turn to look at his friend out of the corner of his eyes.
“I mean, I can’t hardly be the first one to…”
“… faint in front of the whole council, including Gil-galad and Cìrdan? No that should be a regular occurrence I think. Haven’t seen a lot of councils yet, but everyone is taking bets about who would faint the next time.”
“I didn’t faint! I tripped.”
“Over what? A corn of dust on the blanc polished marble floor?”
“Ai Valar, no! I…”
“…slipped?” Berion suggested with a gleam in his eyes the other elf knew all too well and Thranduil groaned. “They’d been all there, weren’t they?”
“Yep. Including Galadriel.”
Thranduil groaned again and rubbed a hand over his eyes.
“So, to which version of today’s event you want to stick? You fainted, because you haven’t slept in days; don’t look at me like that, I noticed it. Or you tripped over a dust corn? Or you slipped in a puddle of an essence won directly from the Two Trees?”
“You’re ridiculous. And why should I stick to anything.? Nobody will talk about…”
“… Orophers son collapsing unceremoniously on his way to High-King Gil-galad to hand over a report about the last patrol? You are totally right. They will forget about it as soon as they had dinner tonight. How could I have forgotten the short mindedness of elves?
Thranduil we are talking about creatures walking these shores for millennia! Of course, they will remember and talk about it!”
“One could hope.”
“Yeah, probably exactly what the Valar said about Melkor, too.”
Thranduil looked at him in disbelief: “Now you are going to far.”
Berion just shrugged: “Maybe, but as we are talking about taking things to far anyway, where do you want to go to sleep tonight?”
The blond elf looked at him with an eyebrow raised, but didn’t answer.

“Thran. I know that you are having a very hard time to get some rest since we are here. So, I ask again, because there is no way I will let that topic slip again until you had some rest. Where do you want to sleep tonight?”
Thranduil stopped abruptly midmovement and turned to look at Berion, who hadn’t missed a beat and stood too, looking expectantly at his friend.
“I…” Thranduil swallowed “I… No, that would be impossible. Forget it. We are just going to my room.”
Berion rolled his eyes westwards and bid the Valar for just one more ounce of patience for the elf in front of him, before he put his hand on the blonde’s shoulder, making him stay.
“I am not interested in your opinion of what’s possible and what’s not, I am interested in your wish.”
Thranduil sighted and balled his hands into fists, anger seeping into his posture; not directed at Berion but at the whole situation.
“It would be outside the city, but that is not safe and therefore my wish doesn’t matter.”
“I will be there.”
Orophers son stood frozen for a moment, not understanding what his friend wanted to tell him.
“What do you want from me? Are you even listening? It is impossible!” he all but snarled.
Berion seemed to be totally unfazed by Thranduils raising temper and just wrapped his arms around him in a light hug, which made the other elf stop breathing in shock. But he didn’t move away, even if it would be the easiest thing to do. He didn’t.
“I am guessing now, but I think you would love to sit in the small forest near the city and rest there.” he whispered into Thranduils ear, who gulped audibly at the correct assumption of his friend and nodded, because he didn’t trust his voice. He really needed to rest in the nearer future.
“Good, so here is the plan: we will go up to my room and I will grab my weapons and then we will climb on one of those trees and you will rest there as long as you need to.”
“But it is not safe.” Even to his own ears it sounded small.
“I will be with you.”

And then Berions words clicked for Thranduil and he made a step back to actually look at his friend, all anger gone instantly.
The dark-haired elf would protect him, he would keep him safe when he couldn’t do it himself. When he was defenseless while wandering in elven dreams alone. In a place where he shouldn’t be, but would be the only solution to his problem. And Berion would go with him, rules be damned even if his lineage wouldn’t protect him from punishment. Just so Thranduil wouldn’t be alone and safe.

“Father will have our heads if he finds out.”
“Oh he won’t. Well, probably he will, but just that we aren’t in our rooms tonight. Not that we aren’t in the city. He won’t find us and tomorrow, when we are back safe and sound we will tell him something awfully juvenile that we’ve done and then he will wave us away, because he doesn’t want to know the details!”
Berion wriggled his eyebrows to underline his intention and Thranduil laughed despite his exhaustion. He combed a hand through his hair before he spoke again: “Alright, but we should probably inform Galion about our whereabouts? Just for his inner peace, before he decides to search for us himself.”
Berion groaned, which drew another short laugh from Thranduil.
“You like him, too. Don’t tell me something different, I saw you following him the first few days we were here to make sure that he arrived at his destination unharmed. And you know, we will just let him know that…” Thranduil stocked, before he continued, “…that… that we are safe and be back come morning.”
“If that means that you will shut up and get some rest I will do so gladly” he said with mock annoyance.

“And now come, or do I have to carry you, before you slip in some ancient and magical essence again?”
“I never said I would stick to that version! And you are impossible.”
“Am not. Just caring for a friend. And now get moving or I will definitely carry you.”
“Like a rescued damsel in distress?” Thranduil asked, looking up innocently through his eyelashes at Berion, who snorted.
“No. Like a sack of grain. And now come!”

Chapter Text

Run.
They needed to run. To flee.
Their only chance of survival would be the safety of his father's stronghold.
Ai Yavanna, this was bad.
Legolas looked around frantically and decided that there was just this one option.
To run. To flee.
They would die otherwise; with one last look around he yelled: "Retreat! Last order! Retreat!"
He didn't make sure if the others were following him, he knew they would. He needed to check that his patrol was complete within the next few seconds. They won't leave anyone behind. Laeron was at his side seconds later, telling him in a strained voice that everyone had followed his last command.
His friend’s complexion was pale with blood staining his left arm and Legolas knew that they needed to get back as fast as possible.
One of the giant black spiders tried to circle around them to cut their way off, but Legolas killed it with a single arrow. They were defeated, but they weren’t easy prey.

They needed to run faster and warn the stronghold before their arrival. Legolas whistled sharply without slowing down, and Gelir appeared on his side instantly. They were a well-rehearsed team and he was glad that they hadn't taken any recruits with them on this mission. Those would have been dead within the first day of their fight. A shudder ran down his spine and he focused back on Gelir; there was no time for other thoughts now.

"Go ahead, back to the stronghold. Warn them. Let them prepare. We are coming straight back, no other traps, nothing. Take one with you. Run." Flee.
He didn't say it, but they knew each other well enough and it seemed as if his thoughts echoed back through Gelir’s eyes as they met for one fleeting moment before Gelir took off with speed and another head of dark brown hair disappeared with him between the trees. A few spiders tried to follow them, but the elves won’t let that happen. The two messengers were the only ones who could save them now. They wouldn’t let something happen to them.
Next to him Laeron stumbled and Legolas grabbed his arm, pulling and pushing him until his friend was in front of him, so he had him in clear sight.
He won't lose anyone here. That was why they ran, because they had no chance to win a fight against hundreds of giant spiders. Legolas gave Laeron another push forward and fell back to the end of the group, risking a look back at the mass of dark bodies coming after them. The sight made his skin tingle with fear.

They had no other choice but to run. To flee.

He counted arrows in quivers and scanned his patrol for every limp or struggle in movement. He found too little from the first and too much from the last.

They needed to run faster.

One of his twin knives sank deep into the body of a spider, which tried to separate him from the rest of the group and he ripped it back out with a sickening sound, his arm twisting painfully at the harsh movement as the spider fell and Legolas didn’t slow down his running. Slowing down meant being swept under an ocean of eight-legged death.

He gained some more speed and pushed another one of his warriors forward. They couldn't slow down, they needed to run. To flee. An arrow flew past him which was followed a bone shattering shriek and angry clacking fangs. It sounded like a promise, a dark and deathly promise.
Then there was a hand at the small of his back, pushing him forward gently but firmly. Legolas glanced over and saw Maedor at his side, his expression grim, but his eyes softening as he saw him watching.
They needed to make it back to the stronghold. Never slowing down, leaving no one behind. They would make it. They needed to make it.
Legolas nodded once to indicate that he was good and both elves sped up some more, helping their patrol to just move a little bit faster once again.

They had to run.
To flee.
Never slowing down.

Maedor stayed at the back of their patrol as Legolas darted forward to catch Laeron, who stumbled again and wasn't able to catch his footing. It wasn't far anymore. But they needed to get more distance between themselves and the spiders. Enough to get into the stronghold without creating more danger than they already had. He pushed Laeron forward slightly, but to no avail. He wasn't able to run faster. They had reached their limit. Fear crept through Legolas body and up to his heart. Willing it to just stop.
Stop running.
Stop fleeing.

But he wouldn't. They would not.

They run further.
They fled.
They would survive.

Legolas caught Laerons stumbling body once more and decided not to let go of him anymore. Balthoron turned around in one swift motion and shot an arrow, hitting what he aimed for as far as the noises behind them indicated and caught himself on a small branch before he fell over afterwards. Instantly two pairs of hands from other members of the patrol came forward and stabilized him. All of them were looking out for each other.

The stronghold was directly in front of them now. The doors were firmly closed and Legolas’ heart sank. Had something happened to Gelir and Melethron? Hadn’t they made it in time?" What would happen if no one warned the stronghold? It would be slaughter.

But before he could think about it any further an elvish command rang through the air and around 50 arrows flew past them; the noises of dying spiders and their enraged kin were deafening. More arrows flew and other elves dropped from the trees, helping them to reach safety and pushing them forward.

They were more now, but still outnumbered.
They had to run.
Flee.

Legolas was exhausted. His mind and body were not catching up to what exactly was happening as they hurried in direction of the stronghold. The spiders were so loud by now that it was overwhelming. The clicking of fangs. The stomping of thousands of feet. The noise of hairy bodies bumping into each other. Their shrieking and screeching. He felt like he might black out at any moment. Too much. It was too much. And then there were hands on his back and his shoulder. Hair entangling in branches and leaves.

And they were still running. Fleeing.

And then he could see the doors of the stronghold opening and gained some strength from it. He looked around, saw Laeron next to him and got hold of his hand to pull him forward.

Just a little bit faster.

They made it through the doors, which closed directly behind them and the cacophony of noises was cut off abruptly. Legolas could hear nothing else but the rushing of his own blood in his ears and his heart hammering way too fast in his chest. He doubled over in pain as his body caught up with the situation and tried to stay upright on his shaking legs.

They still needed to fight.
They needed to get out again.

Laeron sank to the ground right next to his feet, not able to hold himself up any longer. Legolas looked around, his heart still hammering with fear, but he found every single elf on his patrol and could have cried in relief. Maedor leaned against a stone pillar, head low, two other warriors were at his side, not touching him, but staying close in case something happened. None of them was alone. Everybody was cared for.

They survived.

Legolas knees buckled at the realization and he let himself sink down to the floor in an unceremoniously heap. Crying. Shaking. He didn't care. And then there were hands on his shoulders, squeezing them slightly as he leaned into the familiar touch. His heart was still racing and he couldn't look up just yet. The adrenalin won't leave his body as if it couldn't believe that they were really safe and done running.
Laerons grip on his hand tightened suddenly and Legolas did the same immediately even if he couldn't figure out how they had been able to hold the contact until now, he hadn't even been aware of them doing so.

“Let him go little leave. The healers want to take care of him. He is injured. Let them take him out of here, away from the stone ground and into a bed. Into the warmth where he can rest. Berion needs to regroup the warriors, so they can go spider hunting, we are in the way here." His father’s soft voice spoke into his ear, but he couldn't. His fingers just won't move.

“You have to calm down Greenleave, you are safe now. You did the right thing out there in the forest. But you and the rest of your patrol need to rest now. Let the others handle the situation. We need to get you all out of here. Please."
He tried, he really tried and all so slowly it seems to work out. Different noises than that of his own body filtered through his foggy mind again, he could hear Berions voice, even if he couldn't make out the words. Then more voices, the sounds of weapons being inspected, the feather light steps of the other warriors, ready to heed out. Calming voices of the healers as they talked to members of his patrol.

"You are doing good, little leaf. That’s it. Thranduil whispered and Legolas looked up, even if it seemed to take much more effort than such a simple task should, and was met with the ice blue and very concerned gaze of his father.
Legolas smiled tiredly.
“Hi Ada”, he whispered and Thranduil huffed in relief, "Hey little leaf."

The prince’s smile widened a bit, even if that small movement seemed to hurt as the rest of his body caught up with his senses, adrenalin finally fading, leaving just pain and exhaustion in its wake. He lifted his head some more and took in the scene in the great hall right behind the great gate. Making sure, that they were indeed all safe until his eyes found Maedor who had left his spot on the pillar and was on his way over to them. His gait was unsteady before he swayed dangerously all of a sudden and would have fallen, if it hadn't been for Berions fast reaction. He grabbed the younger warrior securely with both hands and pulled him against his side, one arm slung around his shoulder, while the other had a secure grip around his hip. Berion said something Legolas couldn't hear, but Maedor nodded and they came in their direction afterwards. Where the older elves eyes flitted concerned over the two elves on the ground, lingering a moment longer on Laerons pale face and bloodied clothing, until it got back to Legolas, who looked up wearily.
They really needed to get up and rest. Now. Or he would simply fall asleep here on the ground.

“You're lucky that you are still alive, but look dead on your feet, because otherwise I would have made the lot of you run laps at full speed on the training fields for days because you brought a horde of spiders into our home.” Berion stated in his gruff voice that should sound angry, but they all knew that he only used it when he, too was shaken by the events.

Legolas shuddered visibly and felt Laeron squeeze his hand. He would never run -flee- again. Not like this.
Berion looked at him with a knowing expression on his face and hoped that they would never need to endure this again. But he didn't say anything else, just made sure that Maedor wouldn’t crumble to the ground without his support and helped Laeron to his feet at the same time Thranduil pulled his son up as well. The healers seemed to have left them alone some time ago, but as Legolas hadn’t been aware of their presence as they had tried to get Laeron to the healing ward he couldn’t say when they had gone.
The three warriors slung their arms around hips and shoulders until they were able to support themselves enough to make their way without help to the halls of healing. They wouldn’t be supported by anyone else. They had come home on their own two feet, so they would be able to make the rest of the way on them, too.

"I will follow them", Caleiron, their head healer said, never taking his eyes off the three elves. He didn't wait for a response before he walked away and told two other healers to come with him.

Which left Thranduil and Berion on their own.
"You will never send them out on a patrol again."
“What?”
“I suspend them from active duty.”
Berion snorted. “You want to take two of our captains and their first lieutenants out of our patrols?"
“Yes, immediately.”
“Thranduil, could it be that you are slightly, just slightly, unreasonable right now?”
“I am not. They endangered the safety of the stronghold."
“Eh. Those few spiders won't harm anyone. We will be done with them in a day or two.” Maybe four and it would take a lot of warriors to get the area safe again. But they would.

Thranduil turned his head slightly, so he could see his friend out of the corner of his eye and quirked an eyebrow. He could see that Berion was as shaken as he was and tried to shake that feeling off in that snarky way of his. It wasn’t about the danger on their doorstep, but what could have happened. To the patrol. To the stronghold, if the patrol hadn’t reacted as excellently as it had. While running for their lives.

“Just a few spiders today, yes. But what was with the Wargs some time ago? And
the other nests of spiders they detected before. The supply chains of Orcs mysteriously destroyed?”
“I must admit that I should get suspicious whenever the two of them ask to lead a patrol together.”
"You will never send them out together again. Never. I survived thousands of years on this forsaken part of the world just to die of a heart attack, because my own son is even more attracted to trouble, than the two of us have ever been."
“Well. We had Galion on our side. I think he deserves most of the credit for us not getting into trouble more often."
Thranduil snorted “Then find them another Galion."
His friend looked shocked.”I definitely will not. I won't survive another Galion in this forest. They have Laeron. That must be enough."

The elven king huffed a small laugh at that and breathed out deeply afterwards. “This was really close."
“Yes" Berion answered. “One misstep or stumble and they won't have made it back alive."

Thranduil nodded.
Berion looked at him, before he spoke again: “But they did not. They were there for each other and made the right decisions. They are all back here safe. They fled to the only place in this forest that is strong enough to withstand every dark force living in this forest. A place you built. You made it safe. You keep us all safe. Never underestimate what you've created. Including you son. He didn't panic, he led them back. He survived. He will rest and get back out there. Making this whole place a little bit safer again. Day by day, like you do.”

Thranduil didn't respond but squeezed his friends shoulder slightly. One day they would make it. They wouldn't just survive, but live. Until then they would risk everything they had without a second thought to protect what they loved over and over again.

Chapter Text

Thranduil wasn't amused but could understand what had made the wizard turn towards him and his halls. As far as he was the protector of the forest, Radagast was the protector of the wildlife living within, which was the only reason he tolerated the current situation.

That and probably the excitement of the elflings about all those animals in their home was a little bit infectious.

"I am sorry Thranduil. I really am, but I didn't know what else to do!", the brown wizard said for probably the fifth time and Thranduil hushed him.
"I know Radagast. It isn't ideal, but it is all right. We will find a way to deal with it."

Hopefully, they were able to do so before Galion came back and had a fit about having half of the forest's wildlife living in the great hall. He searched the chaos for Berion, who stood next to the elflings, grim expression betrayed by the twinkling in his eyes as he watched Legolas and Laeron, who tried to imitate two hedgehogs, which had furled into themselves. The elflings weren't half as successful at the task as Berion made them believe they were.

"Berion!" He called and his friend came over, making his way through a small herd of deer.
"Do you have a plan?"
Thranduil groaned. "That was the question I wanted to ask you."
"Me? Really? I am your weapons master and head of the warriors. The only solution I can offer is to send a patrol in here and shoot them."
"Really? And I thought that our race was the peaceful one."
"I learned from a war or two", Belion grumbled.
Thranduil huffed. "Point taken. So back to a peaceful solution to our our problem."
"There is no peaceful solution for our problem because we need to kill what wants to kill them."

Okay, arguing with Berion wasn't an option for today, so he needed a different tactic for once.
"Well, but that would be a solution to our problem. You go and kill those spiders and I think about a way to delay Galion's return for however long you need to fulfill your..."
"What in the name of the Valar happened here?"

Oh. Too late for that.
Berion winced and Thranduil nodded in agreement.
"Galion, my friend, you are back early, so I presume that anything went rather well," Thranduil asked innocently while he tried to ignore the small fox who nibbled at the hem of his robe.

"Galion!" Legolas' high-pitched voice saved them as he came running, easily dodging animals of all kinds in the progress.
"Look what Radagast brought us! They don't have a home anymore! Look how cute they are!"
He had come to a sliding stop in front of the elder elf and opened his hands to reveal two geckos.

Berion nearly choked on his attempt not to laugh and Thranduil coughed decently to hide his own. Galion hated Geckos with passion, he thought it to be very unnatural to be able to get rid of your tail just to grow a new one. Which was most likely their fault because they had made him pick one up on said tail shortly after meeting him as a joke, using his innocence against him. The gecko had promptly gotten rid of the said body part and ran away, leaving two laughing and one screaming elf behind.

"Yes. Lovely indeed until they.."

But his irritated voice stopped as something tugged at his cloak from behind. He turned around and was faced with a curious-looking deer.

"Thranduil," He said in a very calm and controlled voice. "Do I have deer slobber all over my robe?"
"Just at the back," Berion answered dryly before Thranduil could say something, who instantly needed to fight the desire to strangle the other elf.
Galion turned around very slowly at those words and Legolas, still absolutely unaware of the danger of the situation shoved another creature in Galion's direction.

"Have you already met Egor? He is a hedgehog! Do you know that they can furl into a really tight ball to defend themselves? Have you ever tried to do it yourself? It is so much fun, but we don't have spikes, so we aren't as secure as they are when we do it. Come Galion, come. We made so many new friends today! Come!"
And with that, Galion was gone. Captured by four small elflings who had grabbed his hands and pieces of his cloak to guide him into the middle of the hall, in the center of all the wildlife with bright eyes and happy smiles.

Thranduil and Berion stood frozen for a moment. Then for another one.
"Berion, I don't want to push, but could you please pick this patrol we were talking about and go to kill some spiders? And please hurry up while you are at it?"
His friend nodded. "Yes, I am on my way. Keep him alive, all right? And the elflings. And the animals."
And then he started laughing so hard that he doubled over.
"Really Berion? This is serious!"
But Thranduil had to turn around at his own words so that Galion wouldn't be able to see his smile.

"This is ridicolcus, Thran. Really. We are wood elves!" Barion gasped. "But l am on my way! This is funny. But I better hurry now."
And with that he was gone, still laughing uncontrollably.

Thranduil didn't know if he should be more worried about Berion, because he was laughing too hard to kill the spiders that had overtaken the home of Radagast's friends, or about Galion, surrounded by the wildlife he tried to avoid as much as possible. After all, it was unpredictable, dangerous, filthy, and up to no good.

Maybe he would just hide behind the throne for a while to pet some of them secretly and wouldn't think about his two friends for the rest of the day.

Chapter Text

"You think this is a good idea?"
Legolas looked at him, one eyebrow raised: "No."
"No, you didn't think or no this isn't a good idea?"
The blonde scrunched his nose: "No, I didn't think about it but now as I do, I don't think it is."

"Ai Valar" Laeron mumbled under his breath.
"Great," he said a little bit louder, even if he was sure that Legolas had heard his mumbling before, too.
"So, what's the plan?"
"We go in, take our prey, good, and run as fast and far as we can."
"Really? This is your plan?"
"Yes, do you have a better idea?"
"Well," Maedor said in his usual drawl. "I wouldn't run with it." Legolas looked down on his friends from the small ledge he was perched on, just barely making out their hidden figures in the dark corridor.

"And if we just do it down here? Get back up after we are finished and come back later if we require some more?" Laeron suggested.
The other two seemed to think about it until Legolas nodded in agreement before he realized that they wouldn't be able to see him. "Sounds good to me. But we need to retrieve Gelir from his watching post for that. It wouldn't be nice the leave him there."

Maedor vanished in the dark, silently walking back the way they had come and the other two waited patiently until their friends returned. It didn't take them long and Legolas came down from the ledge In one fluid movement before he got himself in Position in front of the small door.

"Is everyone ready?"
"Yes."
"Yes."
"Yes, Maedor already briefed me on the way here."
"Good, then let's go." Legolas laid his hand on the handle and pushed it down in a way he knew wouldn't make it creak. Then he opened the door just far enough to make sure that there wasn't anybody inside the room before he opened it further so that they could slip through it without making a noise.
The big room was slightly lit through another doorway leading into the busy kitchen, from where the clattering of pots and pans and the voices of the kitchen staff could be heard.

They stood still for a moment, listening if anybody would come into the room before they made their way to a large table, covered with a thick blanket. Under this blanket were heated stones, so the wonderful and more than delicious dessert would be kept warm until it would be served.

"They smell awesome," Gelir said nearly inaudible and the other three couldn't deny that.

"So everyone takes two and then we go and hide behind those stacks of crates back there" Legolas whispered and the four of them sneaked through the room.

Soon enough they sat crammed together in the small space, eating the warm, fluffily baked pastries straight out of the glass bowls they would have been served in.

"Where do we put the empty bowls?"
"Just leave them back here. We will come down tomorrow and put them to the rest of the dirty dishes, they won't clean them all tonight" Legolas said as he licked the last crumbles from his fingertips. "Everyone ready to go back to the feast?"

The four of them made their way back silently, checking each other for leftover crumbs, that would give away before they mingled with the mass of elves dancing, drinking, and singing under the stars.
Legolas could make out Elrond and his father talking to each other next to Gandalf, whose foot was tapping on the ground in sync with the music. He grabbed a glass of wine from one of the tablets nearby and downed half of it in one go to awaken the appearance that he had it for some time by now. He was known for his light and slow drinking on official feasts like this one.
The Prince sipped on his wine as he made his way through the crowd, Laeron at his side, while Maedor and Gelir had made their way in another direction.

They would meet later again, at the very latest, when the midnight buffet was served to eat another pastry. Officially this time and with a spoon.
His thoughts ended abruptly, as Berion all but materialized in front of him, Galion hot on his heels.

"Legolas, Laeron. There you are. Thought you vanished." Their weapons master said and watched them intently.
Legolas laughed: "We would never do that and leave you behind. We talked to Lady Amiren for a while and accompanied her to her rooms afterward because she was a little... tired."

He felt Laeron huff with laughter at their touching shoulders. They had to hide behind one of the plants in a small hallway on the way down to the kitchen backdoor as two servants had helped the intoxicated elleth back to her room. Legolas just hoped she was as drunk as he thought and wouldn't remember who Had brought her back come morning.

"How very solicitous of you," Berion said, looking at them in this unnerving way of his.
Legolas smiled brightly "Yes, we are wonderful and sweet creatures. And now excuse us, we need to attend a dance."
And with that, he put his half-empty glass on the tray of a by-walking servant and grabbed Laerons wrist with the other before he pulled his friend away from the other two elves. Bathing in the laughter of his friend white they mingled with the other dancers, finding Gelir and Maedor amidst them.

Chapter Text

They found him at the back of a dark alley, hidden in the shadows. And Thranduil, never one to question himself, kneeled and reached out to touch the other elf's shoulder as soon as he was near enough. Ignoring Berions hissed warning without a second thought.

The huddled figure flinched away from the light touch and Thranduil drew back immediately.

"l am sorry. I didn't intend to hurt you. To the contrary, we wanted to make sure that you are okay."
"You." Berion growled from somewhere behind him. "You wanted to check in on him. I am just here to make sure you don't do something stupid. Again."
Thranduil huffed but ignored the comment otherwise, he knew the other elf long enough to know the emotion behind the voice and his friend was as worried as he was.

"I will touch your shoulder again. Can you turn your head to me?" Thranduil asked and put his hand on the other elf's shoulder. He didn't flinch this time, but he could feel him trembling beneath his fingers.
"Okay. You are doing great. But I need you to look at me."
A small shake of the head was the only response.

"Please" Thranduil added in a soft voice.
"Go 'way ", came the raspy reply, but even if the shaking voice would have sounded somewhat threatening Thranduil wouldn't have obeyed. He didn't even obey his father most of the time, why should he start with listening to an aspiring scholar now?
"Nope. I won't. So please don't make this more difficult than necessary. We want to help you."

"Go 'way."

"No." Even more gentle this time. "You are stuck with us. We have time and can wait for you as long as you need."
He squeezed his shoulder slightly and got a pained hiss as an answer. His concern grew, but it wouldn't do good to push the injured elf any further
"We know they hurt you. We want to help."

They were met with silence.
A warm wind rustled at Thranduils and Berions hair, but it wasn't strong enough to move their clothes. The sky was almost dark, just the stars were blinking and they couldn't see the moon from their position between the houses. It was warm, the air filled with promises of summer, and Thranduil was able to recall 13 places he wanted to be more than in this alley without thinking too much, but this was where they needed to be.

He hadn't taken his eyes off of the elf in front of him once,
but knew that Berion watched their back in case one of the others
would come back to inflict more harm than they had already done.

The trembling beneath his fingers didn't lessen and Thranduil had to suppress the urge to simply grab the huddled figure and carry it to his rooms, so they could tend to the wounds and make sure that everything would be alright.

"Okay, listen to me." His non-existent patience was coming to an end and the three or more glasses of wine hadn't helped either.
"I know that you are injured. You know you are injured. So the both of us know that you are injured and know that the other knows it. So please, let us help you, and come with us now."

Berion had the decency to cover his laugh in a cough, but Thranduil was sure his friend was smirking behind his back.
This unusual rambling seemed to make the injured elf curious as well, as he lifted his head slightly so he could look at him.
Which seemed to be difficult, because the one eye Thranduil could see was swollen shut and showed an interesting range of black and blue colors. He'd turned his head a bit more to see him properly and Thranduil hissed in sympathy, while Berion let out a sound that sounded a lot like a growl, at the sight of drying blood, which covered the other half of the elf's face.

"I've seen enough", the dark-haired elf said in a low voice, "bring him to your rooms, we will meet there."

He turned around without waiting for an answer, feather-light steps betraying the power and the storm that was angered Berion.
"Berion!", Thranduil called, but the only answer he got, was a small wave.

"Great", he sighted. "Stubborn mule."

"Wha's he goin' to do?" a small voice asked and Thranduil turned back around.

"Well. I can't say for sure, but in the end, they will look worse than you. And will respect and value every single creature in all of Arda as much or even more than their own life. But they are many, so he might need some time."

The injured elf groaned.

"It isn't that bad. He will be quick. Let's get moving, so he won't be back before us."

"Why?"

The blond looked at him in confusion.
"Because he is fast and it looks like you are in a lot of pain and it will take some time to get you back on your feet and to my room."

The other elf didn't respond with something like confusion written on his face, but it was hard to tell due to the many injuries.
Then he shook his head with a huff, which turned into a hiss of pain instantly.

"They spared you nothing. Come with me. We will take care of you. Your name is Galion, right?"

The elf in question nodded carefully.

"Wonderful. l am Thranduil by the way and the brooding one, who has a lot of emotions even if he never shows them openly, is Berion. Wonderful soul, really. As long as you don't annoy him by talking too much, eating too loud, breathing in inappropriate moments or existing in general. You will like him. And now up you get!"

He offered his hand to Galion again, who accepted it shakily, before Thranduil pulled him to his feet carefully.

"Okay, I've got you. You set the pace we are in no hurry and we don't need to cause you more pain than you already endure. It will get better soon after I take proper care of you. Berion will take care of those idiots that hurt you. Then I might need to take care of him as well. But we will be all all right in the end. We ever are.
Don't worry, you've got us on your side now."

Thranduil rambled on, but Galion didn't really listen anymore. Maybe he would worry even more with those two elves on his side than without them, their reputation wasn't the best and what he'd seen of them at court by now wasn't too promising either, but they made him feel see the few times he had needed to speak with them. He could always turn away from them later.

A lot of people spoke behind their backs about the tight-knit bond between those two young warriors and Galion must admit he was curious why they were interested in him. The weakling, the one without a sword, the one everyone laughs about.

For now, he held onto the tiny spark in his heart, that screamed s in joy because someone wanted to care for him, wanted to acknowledge him and help him without something they wanted in return. Even if it were those two, who seemed to awaken trouble wherever they went. But they were the only ones who helped. Maybe, just maybe the little spark could grow into something bigger with time.

Chapter Text

Legolas tried hard to concentrate on the task, but couldn't.

The forest was speaking to him constantly now, which wasn't new, but today it was loud. Which, also wasn't something that hadn't happened before. The trees were joyous creatures and loved the elves' attention, even more so, when they knew that their voices were heard and said elves loved to join them in their happiness. If the trees had one of their very good days it was nearly impossible to ignore them, as entwined as the prince of the woodland realm was with them. Body and soul are drawn to the trees with every fiber of his being.
Legolas knew that anyone had a hard time gaining and an even harder time holding his attention on those days when the soft wind made the leaves of the trees dance and the sun warmed the thick canopy from above.

But today was different. Today the forest wasn't just loud, it was screaming.

Normally when the trees were louder inside his head than the world outside he was able to block the calling of the trees to a degree so that he could focus on whatever he had to do, even when he drifted off sometimes and needed to be reminded now and then that he had another task instead of staring into space.
His tutors weren't impressed in the slightest on those days, but he was working hard on his ability to block the forest from his thoughts and made a lot of progress over the last few years.
Berion had made it clear, after two disastrous combat sessions at the very beginning of his warrior training, that he needed to figure out how to stop the forest from affecting him. Otherwise, there was no place within the ranks to defend their home for him.
He had never failed Berion in the field again after that statement, equally how hard it had been to silence the voices of the trees, he had never let it happen again in all those decades of training. Lessons in one of the stronghold classrooms, sitting behind a desk and listening to trade routes that had been made up and destroyed centuries ago, were harder to hold his focus while the trees sang about sunshine and wind and bid the elves to join them in their merrymaking.

Those days were hard, but even then he tried to follow the topic, tried to remain within the room, and focus solemnly on his tutor. Because he knew that he needed to get in control of himself and his thoughts. Nobody needed a warrior who could be distracted easily.
He worked hard and had asked his father for advice, who helped him without further question.

He could not ignore the voices of the forest today, neither could anybody else.
He sat near the door, as far away from the forest as the confined walls of the classroom allowed, and had his hands balled into tight fists under the tabletop. Short fingernails left bloody imprints on his palm as he tried to ignore the trees and listen to Aldar's explanation of different poisons used by Orcs.
This was important, every word spoken and remembered could save a life out on the battlefield, but he couldn't concentrate. His head felt like it would split in two and he felt as if he might be sick any second because the trees were screaming.

His beloved forest was screaming in agony.

He wasn't able to make out what exactly the Orcs were doing, but it was bad. Somewhere on the border, not even near the stronghold, but they were frantic, passing the message to every living being. Screaming for help while their kin were chopped down, unrooted, and burned. He tried very hard to block them out or at least ignore them, but to no avail.
Aldar had snarled at him twice by now, making it very clear that he wasn't impressed with Legolas today, and had threatened to report him to Berion if he wouldn't pay attention now.

Aldar was a pure-blooded Sindar from Lindon and a relict of Oropher's days and even if he had, contrary to some others, loosened up a lot and had adopted a lot of the silvan behavior and their way of living, he couldn't feel the forest. Not a single time had he felt the trees.
Which left him absolutely clueless about anything his proteges felt right now. Even if none of them felt the agony of the trees as clearly as their prince, they all were affected heavily.

Legolas swallowed in an attempt to keep the rising nausea at bay, but he knew it to be a losing battle. Even if he knew that he couldn't be sick in front of Aldar and all the others, he needed to do something, preferably shut the forest out and concentrate on the lesson. As a second option, he could pray that the seven patrols Thranduil had sent out this morning would get in control of the situation right now, so the trees were safe again and would calm down instantly.

A loud voice ripped him out of his thoughts and he flinched at the sound of a door being slammed shut. Someone touched his shoulder and he turned his upper body around sharply to look at whoever was standing behind him, but his vision swam sickeningly at the fast movement and he ended with both his palms pressed into his eye sockets, head bent down as he rested his elbows on his knees in a futile attempt to regain his composure.
Ai Yavanna, this wasn't good. He tried to breathe through the intensified nausea and was glad about the cool hand that lay lightly at the base of his neck, grounding him somewhat.

“Aldar stormed out of the room because none of us were paying enough attention for his liking. Berion might come for a dressing down in a few minutes. Just so you know what's going on.”
Legolas hummed as an answer to Laerons words, not finding the strength for a verbal reply.
The hand on his neck moved slightly and moments later Maedor spoke on his other side: “This will not be pretty. Should we get you out of here, before he arrives?”

His friend was right; Berion would be furious, they knew that out of the experience because this wasn't the first time it happened and he had made it quite clear that he expected never to be called to a situation like this again. Legolas shivered, it seemed that he wasn't the only one struggling today.

“Legolas?”

Right, Maedor had asked him a question. He considered both options as much as he was able to over the feeling of slaughter in his very soul and finally shook his head once. He was as much part of this mess as the rest of the class.
Maedor squeezed his neck in a silent gesture of support before he and Laeron sat down again just in time for the door to open, revealing a highly irritated Berion.

The weapon master's piercing green eyes swept over the young elves in front of him. All of them tried to give him their whole attention even if they knew as well as him that their attempt was futile. They looked wary as if they expected a rebuke and he couldn't hold it against them, because that was, what Aldar had got him for.
They were his warriors in training after all and he needed to make sure that they behaved accordingly. But how should they do so while listening to the useless murder of their friends without being able to help?

His eyes roamed over the class again, lingering for a short moment on Legolas, who seemed to be ready to pass out any second, before he concentrated back on the class as a whole. Every single one of them was affected and so Berion leaned against the desk at the front of the room and broke the silence with a simple: “How are you?”
The atmosphere in the room changed instantly from scared to confused and after a few more moments and a cautious look at him, relieved. They knew him to be strict and not one to argue about disobedience or wrong behavior, but they also knew that he cared for every single one of them. He knew that all the elves in front of him were very connected to the forest and that the only thing he could do now was to comfort them as much as possible until the situation was under control again.

“How are you and what do you need to make it through the day?”
They deflated visibly at that and Berion pushed the screaming trees into the deepest pitch of his brain he could find because he needed to focus on his elves right now.

He wasn't surprised that most of them chose an activity and he let them go fighting and running, something to get away from sitting around while trying to concentrate. Two others wandered off to the halls of healing to help with mundane tasks like boiling bandages or stocking up on needed items. Nothing to think about, simply to occupy them and their hands with something. Another one made his way to the kitchen to help clean the dishes and prepare the next meal, which left him with four elves in the room and it didn't surprise him in the slightest.

“So, the three of you, same question as for anyone else. How are you and what do you need? I will take care of your fourth after you tell me what you need. You don't have to stay with him, I am here for that.”
They all looked at Legolas, who didn't seem to be aware of the ongoing conversation and Berion redirected their attention back to himself.

“Maedor, Laeron, Gelir. I am still waiting for your answer.”, he said gently but determined without room for arguments.

“I want to be alone”, Maedor was the first to speak and Berion nodded, ignoring the fact that the younger elf hadn't answered the first of the two questions.
“You are free to go, but you will check in with me at sunset”, he answered and Maedor looked at him like an animal that wanted to trust, but could not. Berion waited him out, never breaking eye contact until the younger elf nodded once and left the room without another word, but his fingers brushed Legolas' shoulder softly on his way out.
Laeron and Gelir watched him leave, both with similar expressions of worry on their faces and Berion smiled despite the dying souls echoing through his soul.

“He will be alright, I've got an eye on him. And now back to the two of you.”, Berion said, voice still soft and caring.
“I am as far away from fine as the Valar are from helping us”, Laeron stated and released a shuddering breath, which made Gelir snort.
“That sounds dire.”
“It is!”, Laeron exclaimed angrily and then, softer now, “But I don't know what will help.”
“Maybe something to eat?”, Gelir suggested without any trace of humor or joking around.
“Would you join me?”
“Yeah. And then we could....”
“Play some chess? Drink a glass of wine together? Something like that?”, Laeron finished as Gelirs voice faltered. The brown-haired elf nodded thankfully and Berion waved them away.
“Go, take care of yourself. I hope the situation will be under control soon. I am there for you if you need me.”

He waited until the two elves had left the room before he returned his attention to the last remaining warrior.
Legolas hadn't moved since he stepped inside the room, he still sat hunched over, palms pressed into his eye sockets and breathing controlled. He made his way over to his best friend's son and knelt next to him.
“Legolas, I need you to talk to me. I need to know how to help you”, he whispered and touched the blonde's knee carefully. Legolas flinched at the touch and groaned before he went completely still.
“Sick”, he breathed out nearly inaudible and Berion looked around frantically before his eyes landed on a bowl full of fruit on the desk at the front of the room. He sprinted over, dumped its contents without further thought on the tabletop, and got back just in time to hold the thing under his prince's chin.
Legolas swayed where he sat and only Berions fast reaction saved him from falling over afterwards. The weapons master swore under his breath and put the bowl on the next available surface without another thought, he could deal with it later, he had a more important task right now.
“Legolas, what do you need?”, he asked urgently. As well as he knew father and son, moments like this weren't predictable. They needed to voice what could help and Berion was already more than glad that Legolas hadn't just run to seek shelter within the forest. Unseen by everyone until he decided otherwise.
“Thranduillion”, he said gently, putting two fingers under the younger elf's chin to lift his head a bit. Their eyes met briefly and Berion could see the pain that Legolas felt clearly.
“Hur's. Dark. Away, trees.” he slurred and Berions concern grew because Legolas never wanted to go away from his beloved forest. He was nearly as entwined with it as Thranduil was at this point but without the capability to endure as much as his father. And how should he be? He had lived through enough grief and heartbreak already, but not nearly as much as they had. And Berion was glad for that, even if it meant, that he was physically sick from something that happened miles and miles away. He needed to speak with Thranduil, they needed to figure something out about this. But not now. Now he needed a plan.
He thought for a few seconds before he decided on a plan of action.
“Stay here”, he said to the nearly unresponsive elf, “I will be back shortly and bring you somewhere safe, but it will take some time. Are you alright on your own for a short while?”
Legolas hummed in confirmation and Berion hurried away in search of Galion.

It was hours later that the door to the most secure prison cell of the stronghold deep under the earth swung open and revealed a very distressed-looking Thranduil.
Berion looked up at him, never letting go of Legolas, who sat huddled between his bent legs on the ground. His right side was pressed to Berions chest and stomach, his head rested against his shoulder and his hand curled tightly into his mentor's robes. His face was pale and his breathing uneven, but he did better than hours before as the older elf had first seen him. As heavy as his head had become it made the impression that Calairons potion had helped eventually.
“What are you doing down here?”, Thranduil whispered and knelt beside them. His eyes roamed over his pale son, concern radiating off of him as he carefully leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss on his son's forehead. Legolas hummed in response but didn't move otherwise.
“It is quieter down here”, Berion explained, voice low and rough from disuse.
Thranduil seemed to understand instantly and closed his eyes for a moment.
“Thank you”, he whispered and Berion smiled, looking from his friend to his son, who had transferred one of his hands from Berion to Thranduils robes, holding on tightly and connecting the three of them.

They had lost something today and had been reminded how cruel life could be, but they were still alive. Still together. Still safe again. They still had each other. And they would work on the rest so they would survive whatever dark would come in their direction.

Chapter Text

Thranduil sat alone in one of the trees near a small lake, content for once with being away from his elves. He loved them fiercely, and their renewed happiness made his heart lighter than he had ever felt. He enjoyed the feasts and laughter, the peace. And all this made those already joyful Woodelves even louder and wilder than they had ever been. Because they no longer needed to be quiet — there was no reason to hide anymore.

But right now he sat alone under the moon and the stars, enjoying the soft breeze blowing softly over the Undying Land. Sometimes he wondered how his old home fared, and with it the elves they left behind. He knew that they made the right decision to stay, deeply rooted Silvan elves who belonged in the old forest. Souls attuned to the trees and earth, as if it were part of their bodies, they wouldn't have survived the trip over the sea. They would fade some eventually, not in the heartbreaking way a lot of his kin had done over the last centuries through grief and pain. They would become part of the forest, lay themselves to rest on one of their most beloved places, and stay there forever. Absorbed by the nature that loved them as dearly as they did. They would be finally at peace again.
At home.
Erynechil would go to the small pond within the old perimeter of their stronghold. He had spent hours there whenever it had been safe enough to wander. He had taken the elflings with him, and they had watched the fish and listened to the frogs for hours. He was one of the only ones to be able to make them quiet down enough for the animal to come close and nibble at their feet in the water without much effort.
Aeliana would wander deep into the forest, to one of the old oak trees, where she had lost her husband. The fierce kitchen maiden had sneaked out often and had always been watched by one of his warriors without knowing it. She had lost her husband, but none of her six children, and so they all had made sure that those children wouldn't lose her mother as well. But now she would be safe to lay down wherever she wanted. And it would be the place her husband left Arda so many decades ago.
Larethorn would go to the rock formation near Radagast's old hut. Where a lot of the Athelas grew, he had saved so many of his friends and family. He had always spoken fondly of the place. Cared for the plants and made sure that they stayed hidden and secure from unfriendly eyes. He had gone there as well, even if there was nothing to harvest, just to breathe after things at the stronghold had retaken a turn for the worse.
Sometimes he asked himself if he should have stayed as well. But then he sees his son laughing and dancing while his father watches him with a twinkle in his eyes and knows that he did everything right.

Soft footsteps interrupted his musings, and he frowned. They didn't belong to any of his elves, and it took him another breath to recognize her presence. He had never felt her near him on this side of the sea before.
Yavanna stood under his tree, her bare feet touching the cool water of the lake and her long hair moving in the wind. Neither of them spoke for a moment, and Thranduil wondered why she'd come. He didn't move his eyes away from the lake, watching the reflection of the moon dance on the smooth and dark surface instead of facing one of the mightiest beings wandering this shore.

“Thank you.”
Thranduil startled and turned around at the sound. The words were spoken so softly that he wasn't sure they had been spoken, but Yavanna looked directly into his eyes the moment she was able to, and he just stared at her without a word, lips parting slightly as if he wanted to form a reply but wasn't sure how.
“Thank you for protecting one of my biggest creations day by day over millennia. Thank you for staying, as everything seemed lost.”
And then, after a short pause: “Thank you for doing so, even as none of my kin did.”
Thranduil stared at her. At her fair skin and the immaculately tailored and perfectly embroidered green robes, her long red hair that nearly went down to her bare feet, still touching the water. And then he looked back at her eyes and saw the truth in what she said reflected there. His temper rose. Even if it didn't seem appropriate to get angry at one of the Valar who just thanked him. He wasn't even sure they had ever done that to anyone. But here she was. And already said those words twice. But all he could feel was anger, because where had they been? What had they done to help them?

“You are angry,” Yavanna stated and didn't turn her eyes away from his. And she looked sad, he thought, even if her expression didn't change, but her eyes, those ancient eyes, looked like his soul felt on some days. Like they had seen too much, lived through too much as others hadn't, made decisions they didn't want to make. Like they pleaded and begged, but weren't heard.
And to find himself in her eyes made him even angrier. Because they would have been able to make the difference. But she hadn't. So how could she feel the same?
“Why?” She asked.

He thought for a second of coming down from his place in the branches but decided against it. As if the green foliage put enough of a barrier between them, he felt able to speak what was on his mind. He probably wouldn't have done it while standing directly in front of her.

“I am angry because we fought and died. Day by day. Side by side. Without any of you. For longer than I care to remember.”
Which was a lie. He remembered every single day of it.
“I came as often as I could. As did Orome.”
“As a breeze through our forest, as a whisper through the trees. Yes. I felt you. But did that help us? No.” His eyes were ice, as were the words he spoke.
“I tried to.” A whisper and something in Thranduil snapped. He jumped down from the branch and landed directly beside her, not looking at her again but staring out over the lake, anger simmering palpably under his skin.
“Where have you been as the forest burned? Where have you been as the first elf was slaughtered? Where have you been as fathers and mothers, brothers and sisters, or those all alone who died? Where have you been as friends and family cried for their beloved ones? Where have you been as Berion's heart broke for the first time? Where have you been when Galion cried himself to sleep? As we killed on more days than not? As I held my dying wife in my arms and watched her last breath? As Galion learned how to kill even if his very soul was rebelling against it? As...” He needed to stop, before the tears gathering in his eyes could spill over. He would not cry in front of her. He breathed in deeply before he continued. “As I held my mortally wounded son in my arms and thought he would follow his mother? Where have you been as all our hearts broke? As I saw the reflection of it in Berion's and Legolas' eyes? As we moved on nonetheless? We moved on every single day through rain and snow and sun and wind and tears and blood! Where have you been?”
His eyes were brimming with unshed tears now. He understood her intention. Ai Valar, he did. And he knew he was cruel. But his people had endured too much for a simple thank you spoken in hushed tones in the middle of the night.

“I am sorry. And I know that there will never be the right words to make up for what you endured. I have no control over the other Valar, but I came back for you and to you as often as I could. I am not able to destroy; I can create and keep alive, but not destroy even if it is evil. I cried for you and pleaded. I argued and yelled, but it wasn't my place to be. And I still thank you for not giving up even if everyone abandoned you.”

Yavanna was silent after that, but Thranduil didn't continue their conversation. He knew that she spoke the truth. That it hadn't been her decision to make. That she might have pleaded for them, and in front of the other Valar. That she cried and hurt for them and her beloved forest.
But sadly, it didn't change anything. And so he didn't turn around to her again, but watched the now still water reflecting the moon. He felt her presence still next to him, but there was nothing more to say tonight. No more grief to share, no comfort to give. Their feelings were still too raw for their souls to find the connection they both were so desperately searching for, now that they finally stood next to each other.

And as her bare feet retreated softly from the shore, two tears fell unseen.