Caught (a legolas fanfiction)

Death

A/N: Ya know what annoys me? Elladan and Elrohir are a combined character on the FF filters! They are separate people, dang it!

Chapter 11

The king sunk to his knees, his knuckles dripping blood onto his robes. The crown on his head toppled to the ground with a dull thunk. He clutched at his hair and let out a heart-wrenching wail.

"Thranduil!" Aragorn exclaimed, and he kneeled by the king.

"Not shielded...anymore..." the king gasped, and sweat began to roll down his face. "...he must've...passed out..."

Aragorn helped the king to lay on the ground. The elf's eyes stayed squeezed tightly shut, and his breathing, normally next to silent, was heavy and ragged. He clutched tightly at his chest.

"Gimli," Aragorn said. "Can you get some herbs and bandages from my pack? It's over there, under that tree."

The dwarf picked up the pack from where Aragorn had dumped it when he went to the king. He grabbed a small healing kit from within it and tossed it to the ranger, who snatched it out of the air.

Aragorn gathered a few herbs from within the pack and a small vial of water. He put the leaves in and closed the lid, and shook it vigorously before opening it once more and pouring it into the lips of the thrashing king, who swallowed on reflex. Soon, he fell motionless.

The man took the king's bleeding hands and removed a few splinters, and the elf didn't even stir. His face remained pale and motionless. Aragorn put a salve on the hands bandaged them, before taking out a few more herbs.

"What are those for?" Gimli asked, as Aragorn began to chew them.

"You seem to forget I had an arrow through my leg only two days ago," the man sarcastically, and he continued to munch on the leaves.

Gimli went red, and Aragorn laughed.

"Do not worry, my friend. I do not blame you forgetting. We have all been a little preoccupied..." he sighed, and his eyes suddenly flooded with sadness.

"I just can't believe the elf went through all that," Gimli said, sitting down and beginning to make a fire, referring to when Aragorn had told him of Legolas's experiences the night before. "And yet he remains so happy and playful. How can he live at all, never mind jovially?"

"That is another thing that I, too ask myself," Aragorn said, sighing. "I know I wouldn't be able to, especially given the elves' amazing memory. I'm sure he can remember every single detail of every moment he's been through, good and bad."

All was silent for a few minutes, until Thranduil sat up with a jolt. Aragorn and Gimli's heads snapped up, and Aragorn stood up and walked over to the king.

"Are you all right, Thranduil?" he asked in concern. "You woke up very quickly. Those herbs were supposed to at least help you get a few hours of sleep."

Thranduil ran a hand tiredly over his face, wiping away the sweat.

"I don't know, Estel," he said softly. "I don't know..."

Aragorn helped the king get to his feet, and he pulled a few things out of his bag as he searched for the thing he wanted. However, he made the mistake of pulling out a familiar blue and silver tunic and circlet.

"Legolas..." Thranduil breathed, taking the items from where Aragorn had placed them on the ground and holding them against his cheek.

"Ah..." Aragorn said. "He had no more space in his pack after the coronation, so he asked me to carry them for him. I never got to give them back."

Thranduil closed his eyes and breathed in the lingering scent of his son in the clothes; it was a mix of pine and a smell he could only describe as pale blue.

Aragorn finally found what he was looking for: a red tunic and brown breeches, and he offered them to the king.

"I know that they're probably nowhere near as grand as your usual attire," he said, as Thranduil took them from him. "But there is blood on your clothes now from your hands, and I know you would prefer not to continue wearing them."

The king nodded his thanks, and got up.

"There is a stream nearby," he said. "I think I shall go and bathe. Anyone care to join me?"

Gimli and Aragorn shook their heads, knowing that the king was only asking out of politeness. He nodded, and took toward the woods.

He still had Legolas's clothes in his hands.

Legolas was having trouble healing the slashes on his back. He couldn't reach the middle of his back to get to the ones there, and he couldn't reach far enough to stitch any of the deeper ones without causing himself extreme agony.

Maybe it is a good thing you can't reach them...a voice inside his head whispered. Now you can fade. Now you can die, like you deserve.

Eventually, he had to settle for putting a salve on the cuts he could reach, and dealing with the pain through the ones he couldn't.

He could barely get himself to get to the shelf, anyway. His whole chest, his heart and the area around it, felt like an empty hole.

Maybe death would be better.

He closed his eyes.

Though he hadn't bathed or changed clothes, Thranduil sat beside the stream, his head in his hands. Suddenly, the pain which he had been suppressing all day seemed overwhelming. He rubbed absentmindedly at his temples as he tried to fight against it. It grew and grew, and he growled lowly under his breath.

He felt like his head was about to come apart in his hands. Reaching for a tree nearby, he felt immediately the presence of the being in his mind.

"Hello, Thranduil," she said, her melodious voice washing over him. His breath caught in his throat in recognition. It was the first tree he had spoken to after his wife's death and Legolas's rescue, on the way back to Mirkwood with his tiny son grieving in his arms. "It has been many years since you have visited us."

"Aye," he replied, placing his palm against its firm bark. "Too long, my friend. Too long."

"What brings you here today?" she asked, voice warm. "You do not often venture so far from your palace. We see your son more often in these parts."

"You see, I am here for that very reason. Legolas is missing. He was captured by a man with Veritinan's eyes."

"But you know it cannot be him."

"Aye. Humans do not live that long."

Her laughter filled his ears.

"Of course not, penneth, of course not."

"I...I miss him....I want my ion back."

"I know, penneth. He misses you, too."

"Yes...wait...you have seen him?!"

"Of course, Thranduil. Think about where you are."

Realization dawned on the elvenking.

"He brought Legolas back there?"

"Aye," the she-tree replied, voice laced with sadness. "And he is fading. You must to him quickly, for—"

Suddenly, there seemed to be a gaping hole in Thranduil's chest. He staggered backward, clutching at it. He gasped at the sudden emptiness. What was usually there?

"Legolas!" he said aloud, eyes widening. No, it couldn't be!

He ran back to the campsite, his son's clothes in his arm. He grabbed the arms of both Aragorn and Gimli and dragging them along the all too familiar path, the same one from back then.

Legolas...

A/N: Did you know that Thranduil means "vigorous spring" in Sindarin? I found that kind of strange...Why vigorous spring? Legolas's name's meaning seems so appropriate, but this doesn't, really make very much sense.