The next thing he knew in his rage, he was in the air, one of his swords embedded in the back of the dragon who had taken his beloved wife. The dragon let out a roar of pain, it began to twist and spin in the air. He stabbed his second blade into the back of the beast to keep from falling. As it spun, he slowly slid down the left side of the dragon. He looked up in time to see it's dead eyes glaring at him, it's lips curled, flames dancing in its mouth. It slowly opened its jaws to let loose the flames. His eyes widened and he pushed one of the blades deeper and twisting it. The dragon winced heavily in pain, the jet of flame off it's mark, he felt a searing pain consume his left arm and the left side of his face. He cried out in pain. He felt his grip slipping from the blades as they were slippery with the dragon's blood. Just as he fell, he was caught by something, he peeked through the tears of pain and saw the dragon and wrapped it's fore arms around him as well as its wings. He was jolted ever so slightly as they crashed into the ground below. He felt his consciousness go in and out of reality as waves of burning pain courses through his body. He felt the dragon move, causing him to roll, he cried out in pain. After a moment, heard a voice calling his name, but it was muffled by his pain. He felt a cooling touch on his chest.
"...Thranduil..." the voice grew clearer as he focused on it, "Thranduil, I-I am so sorry... I... I was not myself, please, stay with me," it pleaded.
He recognized the voice, "L-Luriel?" he whispered, wincing heavily as a fresh wave of pain pulsed from his face from the movement of talking.
"Yes it is me, I do not know how long I can fight the Nazgul's control, but I will as long as I can, and see you get to safety, come, I need you to stand," she said, sounding extremely relieved he was aware enough to speak. She moved to his uninjured side and gently grabbed his right arm, pulling him up. He felt her shake with effort. He wanted so terribly to ask her how she got there, and what happened to the dragon, but he barely had the strength to stand and walk. He was nearly limp, stumbling greatly. Luriel wrapped her left arm around his torso, her hand touching the burns on the left side of his torso. He tensed, waiting for pain a new, but vocally sighed in relief as a cool relief spread from her hand. He felt a wetness on his right side. He opened his good eye and saw a red stain spreading on him from Luriel's left side.
She was injured, and bleeding heavily. He was about to inquire the cause, but was overcome by another wave of pain. He heard a hiss of pain come from her direction, and he felt himself fall a little. Luriel had fallen to one knee, her breathing was sharp and fast. She was in great pain, he could tell that much.
She gently lowered him to the ground, being especially careful of his wounds.
"I must leave, they are searching for me, but your people are looking for you. I reached out to your captains with my mind, they know your location," she paused and held her breath for a moment, before continuing, "and I pray one day you will forgive me. If I am ever free, I will heal you of your wounds," he felt a gentle kiss on his his forehead, he felt some of the pain leave him. He managed to clear his sight completely in his right eye, he saw a strange color of flames engulf her, and she grew...into the very dragon he had been fighting. She took off without looking back. He had been too delirious with pain to realize what she had meant.
"Wait..." he whispered far too late, he reached out with his good hand before exhaustion took him and his arm fell limp. Though she had brought some relief it was not nearly enough, he lay shaking horribly in pain. He still felt as if he was on fire. The dragon fire had burned away the armor, his clothes burned into his skin. He felt involuntary tears stream down his uninjured cheek, he could not see out of his left eye. It was several long moments before he heard anything.
"My Lord Thranduil?!" a voice called, he recognized the voice of his second in command, Veloríon.
"H...here..." Thranduil responded, his throat raw and dry, it was not very loud, but he knew elven hearing was far superior and would hear him.
He saw Veloríon run up to his side, k selling down. Veloríon was one of the few remaining Sindar from the days of old. He had their famous golden hair and blue eyes, but his features were marred by orc blood and dirt. He gently lifted Thranduil up onto his lap, careful of his obvious injury, "My prince! What has happened?!" he cried.
Thranduil felt another tremor go through him as another wave of pain passed. Veloríon gently picked up the injured prince and turned toward the battle, he began running at full speed. Thranduil moaned in pain as he was jostled by the movement. Everything moved in a blur, they stopped and he heard Veloríon give an order, "Retreat we must retreat, call the troops back." Veloríon turned away just as the horn of Greenwood called retreat across the battlefield.
Veloríon found Thranduil's elk. The elk saw his injured rider and bounded over. It knelt down and allowed Veloríon to mount it with Thranduil in front of him. Veloríon wrapped his right arm around Thranduil to keep him steady the other on the neck of the elk, he whispered in elvish, "Run my friend, carry us home as fast as you can!" the elk snorted in response and bounded away from the battlefield with such speed, Veloríon was surprised it did not stumble or crash, but this elk had lost its rider before, and would not lose another.
It was a few hours before Greenwood came into view, the elk traveled the trees and roots with sure strides. They made it to the heart of the kingdom and raced across the bridge into the palac.
Veloríon yelled out orders in elvish, "Your prince is injured make way!"
The guards quickly opened the doors and the elk charged in, not stopping until it reached the healing chambers. It could not fit into the room, so Veloríon dismounted, carefully lowering Thranduil into his arms. The prince was nearly unconscious with pain.
Healers rushed to their aid and took Thranduil from his arms. Veloríon turned to the now panting elk, patted its neck as he walked out, he walked the halls seeking Oropher, to tell him about his eldest son.
Oropher barged into his son's room, as that is where he had been moved to. He had come despite the healers warning him away. He was there holding his son's uninjured hand as the burned and melted armor was pried from his body. Thranduil screamed in pain, the sound echoing out of the room and into the hall beyond. The seared cloth had to be surgically cut off. His burned oozed a clear liquid. Much of the dead skin on his arm had been removed after much screams and cries. The pain removers a were not working, leaving the poor prince to feel every ounce of agony. Oropher winced every time his son cried out, or begged for the pain to stop.
Oropher tried his best to comfort his son, who called out for him, begging it to end.
The healers applied a pulp to the burns on his arm and torso, they could do no more then try and prevent infection, as this burn was caused by dragon fire. A fire filled with destructive magic. They moved to his face, one healer had to hold the prince's head while another carefully removed the dead blackened skin. They moved as quickly as they could without causing further damage. They bandaged his face up. The head healer, Sterlaní approached Oropher, "Our healing skills will not be enough, we must send for Elrond, I fear his wounds will be riddled with infection in a few days time without proper care, he may know a better way to ensure your sons survival.
Oropher, whose eyes were full of tears, spoke quickly, and rather forcefully, "Then make haste, send our fastest riders! I will not lose another son!"
The elf bowed and left, as did the other two healers.
"ada~..." He heard a weak voice call for him. He turned to his son whose hand he still held and knelt next to the bed.
"I am here iôn-nin," he said soothingly.
Thranduil could not move his head without extreme pain from his stiff, burned neck. He managed to open his right eye, the other burned with pain.
"Where is Legolas?" he croaked out, "Is he safe?"
Oropher gave him a small smile of understanding, "He is safe, and well, I can have him retrieved if you wish."
"No..." Thranduil whispered, "I do not want him to see this..."
"Tell me iôn-nin, how did this happen?" he asked grasping his son's hand with both of his own now.
"Luriel... turned on us..." He whispered.
Oropher's eyes widened slightly, "That does not make sense Thranduil, why would she turn on us?"
"She...did this..." Thranduil winced as he spoke.
Oropher looked his son over, but memories of the joyous girl he met all those year ago, her wedding her son, and from what Thranduil had told him, she now carried his grandchild, "I think your mind is clouded by pain iôn, it does not make sense for her to turn on those she cared for most," he conceded, but Thranduil had given into exhaustion and had not heard his father, leaving him in silence to his thoughts. Oropher had grown fond of Luriel, she was much like the daughter he never had, he refused to believe she would join those that had taken so much from her. He stood, slipping his hands from Thranduil's and silently left the room, he would make those who caused his family so much grief and loss to suffer greatly.
"Ada Adanin!(father of my father)" he heard a young voice call from down the hall. He turned to see little Legolas running up to him, a tired elf maid, who had been charged in watching him, close behind.
Oropher bent down and scooped the Elfling up, "What is it my little leaf?" Oropher said calmly.
"I heard Ada has returned, I wanted to welcome him, but Estrá said I could not," he said casting a glance at the exasperated elven maid.
"I will care for him now Estrá," Oropher said with a nod of thanks before turning, carrying Legolas away from Thranduil's room, "You cannot see your ada yet my little leaf, he is weary from travel. He needs a while to rest."
Legolas looked over his grandfather's shoulder at his father's door which was shrinking from view as they moved away, "I could help him feel better, he always feels better after I give him a hug!"
Oropher chuckled, "You can give him the biggest hug you can once he feels better," he promised his grandson.
Oropher sat upon his throne, it was a few days later since his son had come back from battle, near death. He sat awaiting to see if Elrond would have gotten the message, a request for help. Legolas suddenly appeared and climbed on Oropher's lap. Oropher was surprised by his sudden appearance, having been so lost in his own thoughts he had not heard the Elfling's approach. Legolas made himself comfortable on his grandfather's lap, "How much longer before I can see ada?" he asked, looking at Oropher with his big blue eyes.
Oropher wrapped an arm around Legolas, "Soon, we must first await Elrond of Rivendell first."
Legolas perked up, "Elrond is coming here? Is Elladan and Elrohir coming too!?" he asked in excitement.
Oropher smiled, "No, it will just be Elrond this time, perhaps after there is peace you and I can travel to Rivendell to visit them."
Legolas appeared excited from that and wrapped his little arms around Oropher's neck in a hug. Oropher returned the embrace before Legolas slid off his lap and skipped away, blissfully unaware of his father's dire condition. Thranduil had worsened, just as the healers had feared, his wounds had grown infectious, despite their best efforts. Oropher slouched slightly and rested his face in his hands, he was exhausted, having not rested the entire time. He only left his son's side to care for Legolas and when the healers had to change Thranduil's bandages.
He heard fast approaching footsteps, raising his head, he saw the messenger he had sent out. His heart skipped a beat when he saw none other than Elrond himself, not yet Lord of Rivendell. Oropher stood and quickly descended his throne meeting Elrond half way, skipping all formal greeting he spoke quickly, "Come follow me, quickly," he said. Elrond noded and followed as they made great haste to Thranduil's room. Oropher opened the door for Elrond. The first thing that hit Elrond was the smell of infection and illness. He saw the healers in the process of removing soiled bandages. He quickly walked up to Thranduil's side. His gaze traveling the prince's body. Thranduil was asleep, his eyes closed. Elrond rested a hand in the prince's forehead, he was burning up. His completion was an ashen grey and he seemed to shiver with cold. He moved to his injured side, the healers moving out of his way. He carefully removed the bandages, his eyes widened, the flesh was riddled with puss, he quickly turned to the other healers, "get me some water with athalas within it and a towel, bring me all herbs you have to fight infection, if we do not get these wounds fully cleaned the infection will enter his bloodstream and he will be beyond our ability to save." Oropher stood in the corner, watching everything closely, a look of a father's concern strewn upon his face. Elrond quickly removed all bandages tossing them aside, he saw his face and arm were the worst of the wounds. He looked to Oropher, "What caused such horrific wounds?" he asked.
"From what the soldiers have told me, a dragon," Oropher explained.
"A dragon, there has not been a dragon since the first age," Elrond said in disbelief.
"Thranduil said it was Luriel, she had managed to transform into a dragon, he insists she has turned against us, but I refuse to believe it," he added the last part quickly.
"With the power she wields it is not impossible for her to take such a form, but you are right, it would not be like her to betray those she loves." He agreed. The healers had returned with the items he had requested. Elrond removed his outer robe, now wearing only his traveling tunic. He rolled up his sleeves and dipped the towel in the water and began cleaning the wounds of all visible infection with great skill. Thranduil whispered slightly in his sleep, but he was too deep asleep with fever to do much more. Elrond worked quickly and had gone through several towels before all that remained was soft flesh that had not healed over yet. With the herbs brought to him he took it to the fireplace in Thranduil's room, requesting a pot, he boiled the herbs in fresh athalas water. Pouring some into a cup and the rest into a new bowl, he used a fresh towel and soaked it in the now cooled water and gently spread it on the burns, before soaking fresh bandages in the water. While they soaked he moved to Thranduil's other side, with the cup in hand. He carefully slipped his arm under the prince's back and gently lifted him up slightly, he opened Thranduil's mouth and poured a little of the water in it. He set the cup down, and used his now free had to gently rub the prince's throat to get him to swallow, he repeated the process until the cup was empty. He then laid the prince back on his pillows and moved back to the injured side. Taking the now soaked bandages, he carefully wrapped up Thranduil, with the help of the other healers. Once he was done he washed his hands in clean water, and then rolled his sleeves back to cover his arms. He followed Oropher out, while speaking, "We will have to do that once a day, and he should recover, we had caught the infection just in time, another day and he would have been beyond my skill to heal, but he will bear those scars the rest of his life as well as some pain."
Oropher turned to Elrond and pulled him into an embrace, surprising the younger elf.
"Thank you for saving my son," he said before releasing him and walking on as if it never happened. He glanced back, "There is a little Elfling who was looking forward to your arrival," he said with a small smile. And as if on cue, said elf came running up behind Elrond and wrapped his small arms around his leg.
"Elrond your here! You can to make Ada feel better right? He'll be fine now that you're here!" Legolas said happily.
Elrond chuckled and rested a hand on top of Legolas's head, "Yes little greenleaf, your ada will be better in time, my you have grown since I last saw you!" Elrond remarked causing Legolas to giggle.
Oropher smiled and left the two alone going back into his son's room. He pulled up a chair and sat, watching the now steady rise and fall of Thranduil's chest and sighed in relief. His son would survive, and that was all that mattered to him at that moment.