Broken (sequel to Caught)

Suffering

It was the sound of a low moan that woke Thranduil from his awkward slumber on the chair beside Legolas's bed. He sat up groggily, running a hand through his hair. He picked up his crown from where it had fallen as he slept and placed it on the bedside table, not wishing to remain free of its burden and be only a father for a few minutes more.

Another groan came, and he looked to the source. Legolas had made the sound, and he was shifting restlessly, sweat gathering on his forehead. Thranduil put a hand softly on his son's head, and he drew it back in surprise. Legolas was deadly hot.

"Herethin?" he said, expecting that the healer would be somewhere nearby and hear his call. There was no response.

Legolas began to gasp for air, and his temperature skyrocketed even further.

"Herethin!"

He began to thrash, rolling over the edge of the bed. The sound of his stitches popping filled the room, and Legolas's fever-glazed eyes snapped open.

"HERETHIN!"

The healer burst into the room and gasped at the sight of Thranduil restraining Legolas on the ground. Legolas's arm lashed out and hit Thranduil in the face, and the king let go of his son abruptly and grabbed his cheek, where he had been hit.

Herethin immediately rushed forward, and instead of holding Legolas down he drew a vial from his pocket, dodging as Legolas swung at his head, and yelled to two of the healers that had entered, hearing the commotion.

"Carethui! Allende! Get his arms and legs!"

The two hurried over, but they could not hold down Legolas, he was simply too strong. More healers scrambled into the small space between the bed and the wall where Legolas was still struggling against an invisible force.

"ADA!" he screamed, and tears gathered in his open eyes. Thranduil immediately hurried over to him, taking his face in his hands.

'Legolas, ion-nin,' he said through the bond, and he tried to bring his calming presence into the chaos of his son's mind. He went deeper into the whirl of confusion and complete and utter agony and reached the center of Legolas's mind, which was filled with a deep ache and longing that he could not understand. He withdrew quickly as he began to feel himself lose control. He was in the room once more, and Legolas was in front of him, tears running down his face.

"Legolas, ion-nin," he said softly and with such tenderness that all of the healers stopped trying to hold Legolas down and his frantic movements ceased. He looked blearily up at his father, and he seemed to regain some of his senses.

"Please, Legolas. I want to help you. Tell me what's wrong," Thranduil said quietly, and he ran a finger down his son's cheek, brushing away the tears on it.

"I cannot," Legolas murmured, and he leaned into the warmth of his father's hand.

"Why not, ion-nin?" asked Thranduil quietly.

"I just can't," said Legolas, the tears beginning to slide down his face again as he suppressed a sob, trying to hold in the part of him that was begging to be released.

"That is not a good reason," Thranduil said, but it did not come out like a reprimand, it was more like a statement.

"I can't..." Legolas said, and he paused for a moment before speaking again, so quietly Thranduil could barely hear it.

"It would hurt you as much as it does me."

"No, Legolas. What is hurting me is seeing you struggling so, and I know it is not just against the poison. And if I do not know what it is, I cannot help you."

"I...Ada, it hurts me so, yet I want to run to it," Legolas said, finally letting some of his anguish come out of his mouth. "I long for it, and that is what tortures me."

"What is it, Legolas?"

"I cannot tell you."

"Oh, for Valar's sake, Legolas! Just tell me!" Thranduil said, finally reaching the end of his fraying patience with his son. He had been awake for three days with very little sleep watching over him, and this was how his son showed his gratitude?

"No," Legolas muttered, drawing in on himself. The poison and his fever were making old memories come back to him, and he saw his father's furious face morph into the one he wore while he whipped him, over and over, within Cyras's stronghold. He knew that that was not really his Ada and it was Cyras who had hurt him, but his father's wanting to hurt him seemed far too real now.

"Please don't hurt me, Ada! I am sorry, I'm sorry, I cannot, I cannot..."

Legolas curled into a ball on the ground, rocking slowly back and forth and allowing the darkness to claim his feverish mind.

Thranduil sighed, cursing in his mind. What had he been thinking, yelling at his son like that? He had gotten nowhere, and now Legolas would be even more reluctant to tell him what was wrong.

He picked up the now-dreaming Legolas and stood up, putting him on the bed and drawing the covers over him. His hand stroked Legolas's hair for a moment, and then he was king again. He picked up his crown from the table and put it on his head, and left the room. He barely heard Legolas's sleep whisper before he closed the door behind him.

"Better for one of us to suffer than both."