There was a body. And there was a woman, crouching over the body. A woman he knew, and at multiple times in his long life, hated. He hated the she-elf's defiance, he hated her goodness, he hated her righteousness, and sometimes, he hated how much she reminded him of himself.
Mostly now. Because the woman crouching over the body of the fallen dwarf suddenly morphed into someone else entirely. Because suddenly, it was a fair elf, a man, crouching over a fallen woman's body, pleading for her to wake up, feeling his life come crashing down. It can't be real. It can't be real.
He'd wanted to die. He would have, if it weren't for his son, left at home, waiting for his parents to return. Only one did.
The woman, the red-haired elf weeping over the dwarf's body, didn't even have that. She had never experienced the heartbreak she was experiencing in that moment, not in her long, ever-lasting life. She didn't have anything to live for now.
She clutched at her loved one, searching hopelessly for breath, trying to deny that the dwarf was dead. As small black stone was clutched in her right palm. She was crying, holding the dwarf's hand between hers. "If this is love, I do not want it." She looked up at him, her eyes like rivers of pain and sorrow. "Take it from me!"
The man didn't know what to say. He stood there, suddenly feeling like he had intruded on something entirely private. He'd hated her.
There was something about the way she looked at him, broken, devastated, every part of her life crumbling like bodies beneath a rock, shattering bones and silencing lives. She wanted to die.
"Why does it hurt so much?"
The man's eyes widened a fraction, though he knew she wouldn't see it. Something inside him broke, glass shattering over a marble floor. Because…"Because it was real."
She turned her gaze back to the dwarf, her lover, and slowly leaned forward and kissed him on the lips, still and peaceful in death.
Pain laced up the man's chest, and his throat tightened as if tears were threatening to spill. But how? He had never cried. Even after his wife died, he'd only shed one tear. One. Because the loss had sucked the emotions out of him, left him hollow inside.
He'd wanted to die. And he didn't want the woman to feel the same. To feel what he felt. To turn away from the world. To give up. Because she didn't deserve it. No one did.
The man slowly knelt beside her, instinctively. He reached out cautiously, waiting for her to lash out. She didn't. She didn't even look at him. As soon as his hand touched her shoulder, she abruptly turned around, and was suddenly crying into his chest.
Shocked, he nearly fell over, but managed to keep a dignified stance. He put his arms around her slowly, ever cautious. He had often thought of her as a viper; always coiled, ready to strike, fierce and defiant. But now she was anything but.
He rubbed her back slowly, in rhythmic circles, as her sobs slowed, caught in her chest. "Shhh…." Her cries slowly stilled, as if she were running out of tears. She needed someone to watch over her now, the man knew. If she didn't, she'd go insane. Elves couldn't die naturally, of old age, but they could die of heartbreak.
The man hated to think, after the battle today, how many more elves would die when they found out their loved ones were gone.
He couldn't stand any more loss. No matter what people thought, he wasn't that cold. He wasn't heartless. In fact, he had so much heart that now, it was beating out of his chest with pity for the woman in his arms, who had just lost anything she had considered heart herself.
She'd would need someone to watch over her. And the man would have to be the one to do it. He'd been a father once; maybe he could be a father again.
Legolas didn't turn at the sound of hoofbeats headed straight at him. He kept walking stubbornly.
"Legolas!"
He knew that voice. But he kept striding ahead, oblivious. The hoofbeats stopped and feet thumped to the ground. "Legolas."
Finally, Legolas turned to face Lord Thranduil, who was standing a bit below him, holding the reins of two horses, a grey and a bay. He was glaring at Legolas icily.
"My Lord." Legolas said quietly, trying to hold his father's gaze. "What do you want?"
Thranduil opened his mouth, then closed it again, contemplative. Then he opened it once more. "I've brought you a horse. You may need it."
Legolas nodded slowly. "Thank you, my Lord." But why would Thranduil follow him?
He studied the Elvenking. The elf was tense, apprehensive for some reason. Just like Legolas himself. "My Lord, what is the purpose of this?"
Thranduil smirked and held out the grey's reins to Legolas. "You cannot go North without a horse."
Legolas approached him warily and took the reins, still waiting for Thranduil to say more, to reprimand him about his earlier defiance. Your mother loved you, Legolas. Yes, but that had been long ago. What did her love matter now?
"What do you want?" The words rung harsh and true when Legolas said them. "Why do you follow me? I told you-"
"-You do not want to return, I understand." Suddenly, Thranduil shoved a long sword into Legolas' hands.
Legolas looked down at it, then up again at the King's face. "I do not understand."
Thranduil laughed harshly. "Clearly, because you are headed away without sword nor horse. Tell me, Legolas, when did you become so rash? This is unlike you. To think, you are out of arrows, too."
"I planned to restock." Legolas said, though he abruptly realised how foolish he must look.
Thranduil fell silent. He looked thoughtful, and he held Legolas' gaze proudly. "I will not apologize."
Legolas flinched, pulling away from the Elvenking. "For what?"
"For my actions today. I have received what I wanted."
Legolas held back a sarcastic laugh. "It's always about what you want, is it not? It's always about you." Angrily, he pushed his new sword into Orcrist's empty sheath. "Well, if you are so satisfied, then go gloat on your pronged throne, my Lord. Not to me. I have had enough."
He pulled the grey horse around and began to walk away, trying to push back all the day's emotions and dismays. He'd heard the term 'brokenhearted' once. It did not apply to him. If Tauriel did not want him, there was not much he could do. She was in a much worse position then he was. He wondered how she would deal with the pain of her loss.
"Legolas Thranduillion." Thranduil called, one more time.
Legolas stopped and turned forcefully around at the sound of the title. "Yes?"
His father looked like he was contemplating something. He stroked the mane of his horse slowly, tangling the fine hairs between his long fingers. Finally, after what seemed like a decade, he said,"I realized something today."
Oh, you did, did you? Legolas bit his tongue and waited.
"I realized that it doesn't matter. Wealth. Not at the cost of your loved ones."
Legolas started. Was he…..no, not in thousands of years.
"Your mother loved you, Legolas, and so do I."
Legolas blinked, startled. That was something he thought he'd never hear again. Something Lord Thranduil could have never said. He must be imagining it. It is still the adrenaline from the fight, he thought.
But no. His father, Lord Thranduil, King of Mirkwood, was still watching him, cautiously cold eyes settled upon Legolas' face. Watching. Waiting for a reaction.
Legolas touched the tips of his figers to his chest mechanically. "Hannon le, ada."
Thranduil's lips tugged up lightly, ironically. "Well met indeed. I expect your return soon, my son."
Legolas began to turn around for a final time, then hesitated. "Ada?"
"Yes?"
"Take care of her."
"That was the plan." Thranduil leaped onto his horse gracefully and spurred it on, galloping back in the direction of Dale. He glanced over his shoulder once more, and his gaze was soft. Legolas hadn't seen him look at him like that since...a long, long time ago.
Something had changed.
Heart lighter, Legolas tugged on the grey horse's reins and continued up the rocky rise, his mind set on one thing now; finding the young Ranger.
Home was behind, the world ahead.