Disclaimer: I do not own any of the recognisable characters in this story, and make no money from them. This story is purely a work of fanfiction and written for fun. However, I do own the OC's, and I ask that you don't use them in your own writing without consulting me first.

Thank you, CoffeeRanger and Hawaiichick, for reviewing Family Tree!

Warning: Aftermath of battle violence, non-graphic descriptions of horrific injuries causing death.

Well, this took on a mind of its own, and morphed into an explanation of one of my most debated elements of this universe. Oh well, it's fact now. More notes at the end.

Tales from Mirkwood: Battlefield

The battle had been won, but at a heavy cost to the wood elves. Thranduil felt more and more desperation and dread fill him as he passed yet another group of slain wood elves, easily recognisable by their dark clothing and leather armour. Raising his head to look over the battlefield to focus on those wandering about, the Crown Prince of Greenwood searched desperately for a glimpse of silver or golden-blond hair that would indicate his father and sons were alive. He hadn't seen them since early in the battle, when Oropher had gone against Gil-galad's wishes, and ordered the wood elves to charge the enemy before they were ready. It was a very bad decision, one that Oropher had made on his own and not told anyone about, so Thranduil hadn't realised what was happening until it was too late. He'd still tried to stop his father, but it was futile. Oropher had made up his mind, and led the charge despite everything.

Thranduil hadn't seen him since.

He hadn't seen his sons either, and Thranduil prayed to the Valar, the Maiar, and whoever else might listen that they still lived. That his father's foolhardy move hadn't gotten them all killed. It had already killed too many of their people, and Thranduil had to swallow and look away as he passed a particularly gruesome scene. The smell likely wasn't helping, but Thranduil didn't stop to contemplate on that. He would make sure that all those who fell were suitably honoured, but first he needed to deal with those who were still alive. As soon as he found his family that is.

Thranduil felt like he'd been wandering for hours when he came across a group that were mostly obscured in mud. Shuddering and going to look away, Thranduil suddenly stopped dead. There was a strand of silver hair just visible under the slain body of a horse. Not many of the elves in this battle had had silver hair.

But Oropher and Belegon both did.

Thranduil frantically pushed the dead animal aside, revealing the elf with silver hair as he did so. With a broken cry, Thranduil dropped to his knees, and tentatively touched the still body of his father, finding it stone cold. Oropher's eyes were open, and his face wore a feral look, even as the huge gash in his head made it clear how he'd died.

Tears poured down Thranduil's cheeks unbidden as he clutched his father's body to him. They might have had their differences, but Oropher was still his father, and Thranduil knew he'd been loved. Even if Oropher had had a hard time showing that love, Thranduil had never doubted it existed. And now his father was gone, and had been for a fair while by the looks of it. Thranduil realised he must have died during that first fatal charge, before the battle had even officially started, and silently cursed his father's pig-headiness in not listening to others.

His pride was his biggest weakness, and now it had gotten him and over half their army killed. Through his tears, Thranduil dimly realised that he was King now that Oropher was gone. Right there and then, Thranduil made up his mind to always listen to others, and at least contemplate their advice.

"Ada!"

The anxious cry caused Thranduil's head to shoot up, desperately searching for the source of the voice. Relief flooded his body as a golden-blond haired figure could clearly be seen making its way towards him. Golwendir was soon at his father's side, and swallowed and quickly looked away as soon as he glimpsed Oropher. Thranduil swiftly cut a large piece of fabric from his own robes, and laid it over his father's face, to spare his son the gruesome sight. Golwendir was still looking away, shaking slightly, and Thranduil swallowed his own sorrow as he walked over to him and gently hugged his second-born. They weren't usually ones for hugging, but Golwendir immediately clutched Thranduil like he was the last solid thing left on earth.

"My son, are you hurt?"

Golwendir shook his head, even as he tightened his grip.

"No, Ada, I don't even have a scratch. Are you?"

"Nothing serious. Just a few scratches and bruises."

Golwendir did not reply to that, though his shoulders shook with suppressed sobs as his knuckles turned white from clutching Thranduil so tightly. Thranduil kept his arms around his son and took steadying breaths to help him calm down. Even though Thranduil felt like bawling his own eyes out, he couldn't afford to let emotions take over just yet. Not until he knew the full extent of the damage that had been done here today.

"Golwendir, have you seen your brother?"

Golwendir shook his head as he continued to cling to his father, not caring that his clothes were filthy, needing the assurance that Thranduil was alive.

"No. I don't even know if he is alive or not."

Thranduil's heart clenched in fear at hearing that. Gently breaking away from his son, Thranduil placed a hand on his shoulder and spoke softly, but firmly.

"That does not matter right now, we are going to find him either way. Come, stay near me. It will be easier if we don't have to look alone."

Golwendir immediately nodded in agreement, and stuck close to his father, as the two elves picked their way across the battlefield. They called Belegon's name again and again as they went, pausing every so often in case he answered them. Suddenly, Golwendir gasped and doubled over clutching his head; Thranduil was at his side in an instant, supporting him. The vision passed quickly, as they always did, but it seemed an age to Thranduil. As soon as he was back, Golwendir looked at his father in panic.

"Belgie is alive, but not for long. He is gravely wounded and almost gone. We must hurry!"

Golwendir then proceeded to take off in the opposite direction to the one they had been looking in. Without hesitation, Thranduil followed, and they soon came upon an even more gruesome sight then the one they'd see earlier. Men, elves and orcs lay everywhere, many had arrows or spears through various parts of their bodies, others had been trampled into the mud. Golwendir did not stop nor even pause until he came to the edge of the group. When he reached them, he dropped to his knees next to a silver-haired elf with a shattered cry.

Catching up, Thranduil looked at his eldest son in horror. The top half of a spear was lodged deep in Belegon's chest; his lightweight metal and leather armour having done nothing to prevent the heavy iron tip from penetrating him. The shaft had been broken off about midway up and was nowhere to be seen, not that the two Sindar looked too closely at their surroundings. Golwendir continued to sob freely as Thranduil knelt in the mud next to Belegon. Thranduil carefully placed two fingers on his neck, desperately searching for any sign of life. At first there was nothing, but then a small flicker, so brief it could almost be taken as being wishful thinking, brushed against the Sindar's fingertips. Belegon was alive, barely, Thranduil realised with relief. However, a moment later that flicker wavered and almost died as death descended on it like a black blanket of doom. With his last bit of strength, Belegon's consciousness tried to latch onto the familiarity and comfort Thranduil offered, but Mandos was stronger. Thranduil knew his son was losing the battle to stay alive, and would soon pass beyond their reach.

Thranduil screamed in rage. Mandos was not taking any more of his family away from him. He'd already lost both his mother and father to that Valar; he would not let him take his eldest son as well.

Golwendir could only watch helplessly as his father screamed in rage before he tore his brother's tunic open, somehow managing to tear apart his armour in the process, and pulled the broken spear out of his chest with more force than had probably been used to put it there. Belegon was ashen-grey and not breathing as far as the younger elf could tell, by human standards, he would already be dead. But Thranduil was determined to save him, and placed both of his hands on the wound, which was sluggishly bleeding. Realising what his father was about to do, Golwendir anxiously watched as Thranduil started transferring his life force into Belegon's body. His hands glowed golden with a fire-like substance as he pushed more and more energy into the ugly wound, a grim expression on his face.

"What the hell."

Golwendir glanced up to see a white-face Elrond Half-Elven staring at Thranduil's glowing hands with fear and horror in his expression. Of course, he didn't know about their powers. And Thranduil was a sight to behold just now, looking like one of the Valar themselves. Or the Maiar, Golwendir thought grimly. That was more plausible, given his bloodline.

Before Elrond could say anymore, a bright light almost blinded them. For a split-second, Thranduil's whole body glowed with a golden fire, before the light seemed to explode outwards and sweep over the whole battlefield. The force of it knocking anyone who was standing off their feet, minor wounds and scratches healed themselves, and many on the point-of-death suddenly found the strength to keep on fighting as their minds grew stronger. When it passed, those who were able struggled to their feet, asking each other what had just happened. No one knew; many attributed it to the Valar or the elves, but even the elves present did not know where it had come from. Only two had witnessed what had happened, and one of them had no idea exactly what he'd just witnessed.

Elrond raised his head and looked around him blearily. He had no idea what just happened, or why he was lying flat out on the ground, though he was feeling much stronger than he had previously. Standing up slowly, the Noldor looked at Thranduil, and gasped in horror. The elder Sindar's limp body and closed eyes terrified Elrond, but before he could do more than take a step towards them, Belegon suddenly sat up coughing. The ugly wound on his chest had completely disappeared, Elrond realised numbly, only a faint scar was left to show where the top half of a spear had gone straight through him.

"What, in the name of all that is good and evil, just happened?"

Elrond didn't realise he'd said that aloud, until both the Sindar wood elves looked at him with dazed expressions. His training as a healer took over at that point, and Elrond rushed forward to join Golwendir, who was supporting his father's head, intending on seeing if Thranduil was all right.

"DO NOT TOUCH HIM."

The icy tone of voice made Elrond quickly withdrew his hand and try to reason with the golden-haired prince.

"I do not intend to harm him, my prince, I just want to check that he is alive."

"No one touches him. We have lost enough at your hands."

Elrond did not understand why Golwendir was being so hostile towards him, it was not like he'd sent scores of wood elves to their deaths. That had been Oropher's doing. The young Noldor was so intent on trying to reason with the younger prince, that he was taken by surprise when Belegon, who had been staring at him intently this whole time, suddenly spoke.

"It is okay gwanur nin, Elrond is telling the truth. Let him examine Ada. He has never used so much energy to heal before, and I detect no lies in Elrond. He genuinely wants to help." (my brother)

The younger prince immediately acquiesced to his brother, and nodded stiffly at Elrond to approach. Wondering if he were in the middle of a nightmare (it was too horrifying to be a dream), Elrond knelt and examined Thranduil with light touches. He was relieved to find the Sindar was breathing and had a steady pulse; he also did not appear to have any injuries, even though he was covered in blood and other substances whose identity Elrond would rather not dwell on. Finishing his examination, Elrond looked at the two elves who were watching him anxiously, and his lips twitched slightly. He did not have enough energy to do anything else.

"He has no visible injuries, and appears to just be exhausted. Would you mind telling me what I just witnessed, and why Thranduil looked like a Valar reincarnated into elven form?"

Belegon couldn't hid the snort.

"More like a Maia. He is half of their blood after all."

Elrond blinked for some time. That would explain a lot actually, but…

"How?"

Golwendir was still cradling his father's head in his lap, his own head was lowered, long hair obscuring his face, as he gently run a hand through the filthy strands of his father's hair. Belegon leant over and took hold of one of Thranduil's hands, even as emotions played over his face as he figured out what to say; he was too exhausted to hide them like usual. Elrond didn't push them, just waited patiently. They'd all just been through a huge ordeal after all; it would take time to process and come to terms with what had happened.

"Father's mother was a Maia. I don't know all the details, but grandfather and her fell in love and married, though her being a Maia was kept a secret. I know that is where our abilities come from. Ada's strongest gift is that of healing; he can transfer some of his own life-force into somebody else's body. That's what he did with Belegon just now."

Golwendir looked up and said all this in a rush, before lowering his head again. Elrond blinked a few times as he processed what he'd just heard. However, before he could speak, Belegon beat him to it.

"Golwendir, he did not just heal me. I was at the gates of Mandos, all but gone from this world. I don't know how he did it, but Ada just brought me back from death."

Elrond was really wondering if this was all a nightmare by this point. Golwendir had lifted his head now, and was staring at his brother with his mouth hanging open.

"Ada just did what?"

Belegon didn't look like he fully understood what had just happened himself, but answered none-the-less.

"I was almost dead; I could see the gates of the Halls in the distance as I travelled towards them. Then, suddenly, I feel Ada's soothing presence surrounding me, calling me back. I wanted to go to him, but Mandos told me that I was his now, as I would never survive the wound, and to just give up. I was caught between the two of them and losing to Mandos, when I suddenly felt an energy the likes of which I did not know existed. It was so strong that it forced Mandos to retreat, and the next thing I know I woke up here. Alive, and healed."

Belegon hesitantly traced the scar on his chest with a finger as he spoke, even as Elrond tried to grasp what he'd just heard.

"Did you say Thranduil just defied the Valar of death himself?"

Belegon blinked.

"I am here, and I know Mandos was trying to get to me, so I suppose he did?"

Elrond looked like he'd just being told the Valar are actually purple cows who have wings.

"I did not think that even the Maiar would be that powerful."

Belegon snorted.

"You don't know the half of it. Ada is the most powerful being on Middle Earth."

Elrond blinked.

"How?"

Realising he'd said too much, Belegon clammed up.

"Never mind, forget I said anything."

Elrond was not about to forget any of this, but knew he wouldn't be getting any more answers out of the brothers right now. Looking around at the chaos and despair surrounding them, Elrond wondered where to even start sorting this out. Looking back at the three Sindar sitting in front of him, the Noldor suddenly knew where he was starting.

"Do you need help getting him back to his tent?"

It turned out they did. Though Belegon was healed, he was still as weak as a kitten, all the energy Thranduil gave him having gone into the healing, and therefore he could not walk without support. Eventually they made it to Thranduil's tent in their area of the camp. Once he was sure they were okay, Elrond left them to go back to dealing with the things he'd been doing before he'd come across them.

Belegon stayed at his father's side through all that night and most of the next day, and did not let go of his hand. Golwendir came in and out, as with Oropher dead, Thranduil in a coma, and Belegon still being weak from his injury, command of the wood elves had fallen to him. Which meant he had to arrange to deal with the dead, and coordinate with the both the other elven and the human armies. Being a master of organisation, he managed to keep things running, even though Elrond knew it was through sheer force of will.

Watching the brothers working seamlessly together to take care of their people and their father, Elrond's respect for them rose sky high. He'd always been more than slightly in awe of Thranduil and Belegon, both being so much older than him and full-blooded elves to boot. At least, he'd always seen them that way. As time went on however, Elrond came to realise that they weren't all that different then he was. Yes, they were older, but still had the same doubts and shortcomings that he frequently struggled with. They were full-blooded elves, or half-Maia, or whatever they were, yet still had their weaknesses. Seeing the strain running things was having on Golwendir, Elrond helped him as much as he could without being too obvious about it. His efforts were rewarded with the other elf mellowing towards him after the first couple of days. They weren't friends per-say, but Golwendir was no longer so hostile, and even asked Elrond's advice several times. While they were around the same age, Elrond had had more experience in leading and organising then the prince had, and freely shared the knowledge he'd acquired.

The clean-up process was long and arduous, especially for the wood elves, who had lost so many of their number. It didn't help that their King was dead, their Crown Prince was in a coma, and their other two princes did not have experience in these sorts of matters. Still, they all managed, and when Thranduil woke up from the healing coma his body had gone into four days after the event, they mood around their camp immediately felt much lighter. It was six days before Thranduil was strong enough to stand and walk more than a few steps without assistance, though he still tired very easily. It was not until eleven days after the battle that the cavalcade of wood elves started back towards their forest home, much fewer in number then they had been when they'd arrived. Elrond, who'd inherited Gil-galad's responsibilities as his mentor had also been killed, watched them go. Thranduil was sitting proudly on his horse, with his two sons riding beside him. As Oropher was dead, Thranduil was essentially King of the wood elves now. Even though it wasn't yet official (he would be officially crowned once he was back home) he already acted like one, and all the wood elves looked up to him with the same devotion and support they had given Golwendir and Belegon.

While he'd still been bed-ridden, Elrond had had a talk with Thranduil, wanting to understand what he'd witnessed him do out there. While initially reluctant to talk about it, upon finding out the extent of what the young Noldor had witnessed, Thranduil had realised that not telling Elrond the truth would do more harm than good. It had been a very interesting conversation, one that Elrond wouldn't forget in a hurry. Knowing Thranduil was half-Maia and had inherited powerful magic abilities from his mother was a big thing to swallow.

Especially when Thranduil had told him that all his children had also inherited special abilities from her, and magical powers were even present in Thranduil's grandchildren, though they were a shadow of the strength he had. Thranduil told Elrond what some of these abilities were, and the Noldor quickly decided that he did not want to get on the wrong side of this family. They had the abilities to take over the world if they so desired. Well, maybe that wasn't being quite realistic, but they were certainly more powerful than almost anyone else on Middle Earth. Thranduil himself certainly had the ability to cause no small amount of chaos if he should decide to.

Which he wouldn't; he was much too smart for that. Through the course of their conversation, Elrond had realised that Thranduil didn't get enough credit for what he did, and was vastly misunderstood by most outsiders. All the wood elves were, and they used it to their advantage to keep themselves safe. It was easy to underestimate someone if you hardly knew anything about them, and that was Thranduil's aim. His first priority was keeping his family safe by whatever means necessary, and his second was keeping his people safe, also by whatever means necessary.

Elrond could appreciate both those aims.

Elrond waited until the last of the wood elves were out of sight, before he turned to go back to his own camp. The clean-up with almost finished, and soon they would all be riding off home, to try and recover from this event.

If they could. Elrond knew he would never forget the horrors he'd witnessed here, but hoped with time he would be able to accept what had happened.

After all, barring unforeseen incidents, time was the one thing the elves had plenty of.

Yes, Thranduil is half-Maia, as his mother was one of them. She fell in love with Oropher against convention and married him, even bearing him a son before it got complicated. In my head, she didn't have permission to do what she did (the Maiar needing the Valar's permission to marry anyone on Middle Earth), and ultimately paid the price. It is for this reason that Thranduil does not have much love nor respect for the Valar, though he understands the Maia and where they come from, seeing as he is half one himself. However, being half Sindar elf, he is not bound by the Valar's will like they are, and has a lot more freedom to bend the rules.

This is also a large part of the reason why Oropher had his problems with authority, and with showing love and care to his family. He was never very free with showing his feelings before, and then never recovered from losing his beloved in such a tragic way.

And, to clear up a potential point-of-confusion, Golwendir has his reasons to not be trusting of outsiders, especially Noldor elves. His experiences with both in the past have not exactly been positive, and he naturally has a very suspicious nature.

I plan on writing a one-shot that explains everyone's abilities, but the Plot Bunnies have left me right now. We'll just have to wait and see what happens with that.

Reviews if you liked this would be much appreciated!