Hiya guys! I'm BACK! Just heads up, I'm really busy this year so I might not get loads of time to update! Sorry about that:(
Anyway, on with the story!
This story may include slight references to Taylor swift's song 'Safe and Sound'. See if you can spot them XD
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters you may recognise (unfortunately). I own Falathiel, Meldarion and Vanya, plus the little tiny elflings.
60 years before the HOBBIT...
Thranduil knelt in the squalid battlefield ground, cradling the near lifeless body of his only son and heir- Legolas, the Crown prince of Mirkwood. The Prince's face was marred by blood from the orcs he'd slain and from his own injuries, mingled with mud and rain. He opened his cracked lips and spoke, but even with Thranduil's heightened elvish hearing, it was difficult to hear. Thraduil pushed a lock of his hair behind his ear and put his ear closer to his son, brushing away the tears that threatened to fall. "What was that, ion-nin (my son)?"
"I said," Legolas rasped harshly in Thranduil's sensitive ear, "you have to leave me."
Thranduil pulled away sharply. "Va (no)! I'm never going to leave you, ion-nin. You are my son!"
Legolas graoned. "Saes Adar (please father). You will be overrun!"
"Your fate will be the same as ours, Las-nin (my leaf)."
Thranduil kissed his wounded son on the forehead. "I'll never let you go. Ea na qwill, tinneth las (Be at peace, little leaf)."
Tear of gratitude leaked out of Legolas' eyes and streaked down his cheeks, leaving trails in the dirt and blood. For once, Legolas let them stay; he was too tired to wipe them away. Fortunately, Thranduil wiped them away himself- it hurt him to see his strong son weep. both father and son looked up sharply as the sounds of battle came closer to the last elvish defence.
A wave of black orcs ran towards the outnumbered Mirkwood elves like a shadow falling over the light. Fear struck each elf in the heart, each seasoned battle-hardened warrior. Thranduil was no different. But he knew that this wave of orcs needed to be held back to save Mirkwood, and the determination in the eyes of every warrior gave him strength. This wave would be held back, though at the cost of many lives, all willing to defend their home and their royal family- the family that had been through so much too soon after their long-deserved happiness.
Thranduil stood up, but a weak tug on his sleeve stopped him. Legolas looked up at hims with animalistic desperation for survival. "Don't.. don't leave me...h-here ...alone." he begged, shattering Thranduil's heart. "Saes Adar, not here, not...now."
"Sssh, ion-nin," Thraduil fought to keep his voice steady for his son's sake, "Ea na qwill. I will not abandon you. I shall take you home." With that, he bent and swept his son into his arms, bridal style, Legolas' cries of pain crushing the shards of his heart. Legolas buried his head into his father's strong chest as the pulling of his wounds sent waves of agony rolling through his body.
"Goheno nin (forgive me) tinneth las." Thranduil murmered.
The elvenking sensed movement behind him and whirled around, but keeping his body between the person and Legolas. The startled elven warrior stepped back a pace, his friends on either side holding up their arms in a sign of peace. "Sorry, Aran nin (my king). we've brought your horse. And the prince's."
The two elve on either side came forward with the aforementioned horses. Thranduil nodded gratefully and let the warriors hold Legolas while he mounted his charger, Tempest. They passed legolas carefully up after he was seated. Thranduil held legolas close to his chest, one arm around the younger elf's torso, the other hand holding tight to the reigns of his horse and legolas'. He looked down at the doomed warriors. "Goheno nin, mellyn nin (Forgive me, my friends.)."
The warriors shook their heads. "Don't be sorry, Aran nin. we'd do anything to ensure your safety." said the lead elf. With a resigned smile, the three disappeared back into the melee.
On the battlefield a host of elves met their foes under the trees of Mirkwood, giving Thranduil time to escape with the injured Legolas. Of the 1000 warriors who set out to fight, less than 200 returned to their loved ones when the enemy was finally slaughtered. But for that night, the orcs were gone and Mirkwood was safe. For now.
Thranduil sent legolas' charger Nightwalker ahead to deliver the news of legolas' injury with orders to run fast. With a worried whinney, the horse leaped forward and melted into the shadows of Mirkwood. Landscapes flashed past the two elves as the rode in a comfortable silence and Thranduil urged his horse to pick up speed. Tempest felt the Elvenking's desperation and they slowly picked up pace.
Nestled against his father, Legolas' eyes begam to feel heavy with fatigue and his eyes closed and his body fully relaxed, lulled to sleep by his father's steady heartbeat. Behind them, a blood red sun dipped down behind Mirkwood's treetops.
Legolas moaned incoherently as his father leapt lightly off his horse the minute they arrived in the courtyard of the decimated royal palace, and ran to the healing wards with his precious burden. Thranduil stroked his face reassuringly as he dashed through the corridors, knocking startled elves out of the way, all dignity forgotten. Legolas writhed in agony in his father's arms, thin screams ripping out of his mouth.
Thraduil burst into the halls of healing and lowered his injured son onto the bed the nearby healer directied him to. Immediately, legolas was surrounded by healers and Thranduil was unwillingly pushed away and lost grip on Legolas' hand. At once legolas' mumblings and please worsened until Thrnaduil pushed his way back to his son's side and softly sung the lullaby that was sung to him as a child.
Minutes later, an elleth (she-elf) burst into the healing ward, earning a few glares from healers dotted around the room. She hissed back at them and dashed towards Thranduil. This elleth was unlike any other in Mirkwood. While many had either black or blonde hair, pale skin and blue eyes, this elleth had skin the color of mahogany and eyes the color of honey. her long urban curls floated down her back in unbound waves.
This elleth was Falathiel, Princess of Mirkwood and youngest child of Thranduil. she looked every inch the royal heiress she was, but in her hand was a bow and at her sides were two bloodied katanas. Her eyes were wild, like she'd been chased around the Ardar (world) by ghosts. She threw herself into her father's waiting arms. The tears came naturally; tears of relief, tears of fear, tears of shock. Thranduil held her tight, running a hand through her hair. Falathiel looked up at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "I heard rumours and whispers...from the yrch (orcs)...tha-that you'd been...that you'd both been..killed." her breath hitched and she buried her face in her father's hair. Thranduil held her tighter, wishing he could've spared his youngest from the horrors she shouldn't have been exposed to, especially so soon after she'd recovered from the death of-
NO! Thranduil mentally shook himself. Don't think about that. I must stay strong.
"Adar?"
Falathiel's voice brought him back to the present. Thranduil kissed his youngest on the head. "The yrch have been slain, Falathiel," he soothed, "Their blood stains the ground. You protected the citadel like a true warrior." He kissed her again. "I'm so proud of you. More than you can ever comprehend."
Suddnely, in the bed next to them, Legolas jolted awake with a cry of terror. He sat bolt upright, not caring about the pain from his wounds, searching for his family. Falathiel pulled away from her father and sat down next to Legolas, careful not to jostle the bed. Legolas pulled her into a one-armed hug. "Falathiel!"
"It's alright Las, no one can hurt us now. We're safe and sound."
Thranduil sat down next to the children and wrapped his arms around both of them. All the healers around them turned away and busied themselves with something else, not wanting to intrude on the tender moment.
Thranduil silently thanked all the Valar for the safety of his children. They may both be the future King and Queen of Mirkwood but-for the moment- he was just their father, they were just his elflings and they weren't the royal family. Everyone seemed to always forget that.
For now, they were content.
For now...
That's it for now. Sorry about the cliffie, but there's more coming. I'll try to update soon, but this is my day off from school. I hoped you like it.
Please excuse the grammer and repetitiveness of the language. I'm part Chinese and English is technically my second language. So ... yeah
Please review, critises constructively, no flames and the usual works. Any suggestions. sorry if it's too fluffy but there's a battle coming up next so hold your horses.
see ya
Nightrunner
xxx
