Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, all characters, places, and related terms are the sole property of J.R.R. Tolkien's estate and New Line Cinema.
Author's Note: Fill for a prompt on the hobbit-kink meme.
Unexpected Reunions and Delayed Introductions
Thranduil leaned against the slightly open door, his hand on the doorknob as he peered into the bedroom. He nodded slightly in satisfaction, glimpsing the tray with its partially eaten meal. His light eyes then focused on his son.
Legolas was seated in the large armchair he had dragged close to the side of the bed. His head was pillowed by one folded arm on the bed. The prince's face was turned toward the door, and Thranduil saw that he, oddly, was sleeping with his eyes shut. Even in slumber the worried curl of his mouth, furrowed brow did not relax. The elven king's gaze lingered on the pale hand clinging like a lifeline to the large, rough hand of the still dwarf.
Nine days the creature had lain unconscious. And while Thranduil finally was able to assure Legolas the dwarf was out of danger, his son refused to let the dwarf out of his sight, wild fear and fierce protectiveness shimmering in his blue eyes.
Very similar to when Legolas, unannounced and unexpected, had burst into the throne room in the middle of Thranduil holding court. The elven king's shock had been great as he watched his son hurry into the room and stumble to his knees. He was dirty, out of breath, hair tangled, fearful and frantic. Only at the guards' exclamations and drawing of their weapons did the king realize Legolas cradled a dwarf against his chest. Thranduil had sharply ordered the guards back when his son snarled at them, hugging the dwarf closer, one hand reaching for one of his knives. He had approached cautiously, gently calling to his son, his gaze flickering between the elf and the red-haired dwarf. Ada…
The choked calling of his name had spurred the king to kneel by Legolas's side, the fight seeming to go out of him as he looked at Thranduil with tears filling his eyes. He babbled that the dwarf was ill, had not wakened in three days, his breathing and heartbeat growing fainter. Please, help him, Ada.
"Gimli?"
His son's quiet, hopeful voice brought Thranduil back to the present, chasing away the sensation of sharp pain he'd felt in his heart during that moment. Peeking through the crack in the door, he saw the dwarf faintly stirring, his eyes slowly blinking open.
"You're awake!"
"Legolas?" the dwarf murmured, voice rough from disuse.
"I'm here," he reassured, joy and relief brimming over. Carefully, he helped the dwarf drink some water.
"Where…"
"Mirkwood. You were unconscious for days. Your illness was beyond my skill, so I brought you here. My father has tended to you. H-he says you shall recover."
"Why would he help me?" Gimli frowned. The amazement and confusion was clear in his tone.
"I know not. Only I asked, and he did." Legolas breathed deeply. "I was so scared...that you would die. Never do that to me again!" he demanded sternly.
For a moment the two stared at each other.
"Silly elf," the dwarf finally commented.
A wet laugh escaped Legolas before he buried his face in the coverlet, his shoulders trembling slightly. Eventually he lifted his head. "Your silly elf."
"I suppose I wouldn't have it any other way," Gimli mused fondly.
Legolas broke out into a grin. "Nor I, mellon."
Silently Thranduil pulled the door shut. Thank you, he silently prayed. Gracefully he strode down the hall. There would be no harm in delaying proper welcomes and introductions for yet another couple of hours, he thought.
Please, help him, Ada…
It had been Legolas's tearful, fearful face, carrying Thranduil centuries back to where he had looked up from his wife to his little son, vainly seeking reassurance that she would be fine, which caused the king not to hesitate nor demand answers, instead doing all he could for the dwarf in the prince's arms.
THE END