I am the Fire: Thranduil and Elleth reader fanfiction

Chapter 2

Without hesitation, you grab your beautifully carved bow and shoot all the orcs that are there. They drop to the ground in seconds as your aim is impeccable. Once they're all dead, you quickly turn to the king. You are under the impression that he has not been hit, but as he rises, you spot a nasty cut upon his neck. Unfortunately, an arrow had skimmed past him, splitting his skin and allowing his neck to bleed freely.

"Your highness!", you gasp whilst rushing over to where he is standing. With a worried expression, you plead: "forgive me for my carelessness. Please, let me heal your wound." Looking into his eyes, you hope to find forgiveness, but they are unreadable, like two ink-pen letters immersed in water. Then suddenly he declares: "I will discover your identity, but at a more convenient time." Then, he turns on the spot and strides away, preparing to re-join the bustling battlefield. "But my lord!" You shout, "you must not go back with your wound untended for, if you lose too much blood you will collapse!" Nonetheless, the king keeps on walking, disregarding your warning. "Please, listen to me, you cannot go back with an open wound, especially on your neck!" Despite your desperate pleas, he still ignores you.

"Mirkwood cannot be without a king!" you shout uncontrollably. Getting the king to listen to you is a battle in itself. "Mirkwood will never be in that situation". You faintly hear his reply, but you can tell his words are laced with annoyance. Yet, that does not stop you from trying. So, unleashing the power in your voice, which you were currently holding back because of his status, you yell freely, with an authoritative tone:

"Do not risk putting your son in the same situation that you were put in Thranduil! You must let me close your wound now!" 

The small area of silence surrounding you is quickly replaced by the clanking of armour. Within seconds, the agitated king is standing before you. "Do not speak to me as if I am a mere fool!" The small proximity between you both means that his warm breath slowly lands upon your face. "You expect me to sit back, away from battle, when my forces are dying, as quick as wildfire? You expect me, the King of Mirkwood, to cease fighting, due to a small scratch? You are expecting the impossible! You cannot stop me from fighting for-". Howbeit, the king stops mid-sentence, as he is at a loss for words. Whilst distracted, shouting abuse at you, you have successfully managed to de-arm him of his weapons. With one of his own swords pointing to his neck, he stops arguing and you tell him through gritted teeth: "now sit down and let me heal you." You are wasting so much time, waiting for him to stop being so stubborn. You could have probably healed three more people in the time you have spent arguing with him. But you have no choice. You could not let the king leave, knowing that he would die from blood loss. Mirkwood would never forgive you, let alone yourself.

With sullen eyes, Thranduil burns holes into your face as he kneels on the ground. Although you are an elf, there is still a notable height difference. Thus, as soon as he is down, you get to work. Chanting away, you put all of your focus into his neck. Watching with content as the dried blood leaves his skin and how the once, gaping cut, begins to close up and heal. Yet all of a sudden, a sharp, stabbing pain starts to spread down your arm from your shoulder. An enemy arrow had managed to pierce through a gap in your armour. But this does not stop you from healing the king. Seconds later, you feel another shooting pain strike you, this time in your lower back, causing you flinch mildly. Nevertheless, you carry on like nothing has happened. During this time, you can hardly hear the king's words of warning, the task of healing the king and your determination to succeed means no commands will reach your ears. He can see the archers, he can see them shooting, but he cannot see that it is too late. 

Once the wound has healed completely, you cease chanting. Instantaneously being drawn back to reality when you feel the affliction of the two arrows slowly shift, deeper into your flesh. However, as you step away the king, a third arrow lodges itself within you, between the armour's gap on your lower back and above your hip. Yet this arrow appears to be different from the other two, as a throbbing pain spreads, more rapidly than the other two, across your body. It dawns on you then that the arrow which was fired was not an ordinary arrow. It was a poisoned arrow.

With all your strength, you manage to stay standing. However, during the process of telling Thranduil to leave immediately, your body becomes weak and your vision becomes cloudy. With no strength left, you fall face-forward, forward into unconsciousness, forward into the unwelcoming lair of darkness.

To be continued; wishing you all a nice week! ^-^