Bear with me, I've started school and for the first time in 14 years I
don't have any class in English!
I've been traumatized of the new and scary environments.
By the way, Legolas is about 12 human years in the beginning of this story.
The elfchild was sitting on a branch; his blue gray eyes were filled with tears. He was very sad, grief-stricken and most of all scared, his caretaker had franticly hid him in the tree.
"Legolas!" his father was calling for him, the king wasn't alone his own guard walked with a party from Lorién, armored. "Legolas!" the tall dark- haired king walked into the meadow, he carried a sword and bow, his armor was splattered with orc blood and spider blood.
"Adar," Legolas first whispered, then cried out; "Adar!" he climbed down from the tree and ran against his father.
"NO!" the child heard his fathers hysterical call as something hit him hard in the back. Several Lorién and Mirkwood arrows flew pass him as he sunk to his knees; he felt his fathers' strong arms around him before everything faded.
"Nîn ion," Thranduíl said looking anxiously at his sons still form, with shaking hands he felt for a heartbeat. He refused to look at the black thick arrow sticking out of his most beloved child.
"Thranduil?" it was Haldir of Lorién, his childhood friend who was kneeling behind his sons back, investigating the arrow.
"He is alive. Was Elrond among the party that arrived yesterday?"
"No, we'll have brake the shaft of the arrow. Eledhin, help me; hold it as hard as you can, I'll brake it." The dark arrow seemed so large in the fragile youngsters back. Thranduíl closed his eyes as he heard his son moan in the unconscious state.
"Poisoned," Eledhin whispered disgust in his voice.
Haldir helped Thranduíl to rise carefully with the boy resting in his arms.
He had seen that the arrow was poisoned, and he knew enough to see that the wound alone might come to kill the prince.
"Eledhin, go to the camp outside Mirkwood, you should find Mithrandir and hopefully also Elrond there," Haldir said to the elf looking at the king, walking swiftly for the safety of the caves.
"Yes, milord, Araen, Fenith, come with me."
You want to know more?
Review, just don't fry me, it smells so bad. Tired swede.
The elfchild was sitting on a branch; his blue gray eyes were filled with tears. He was very sad, grief-stricken and most of all scared, his caretaker had franticly hid him in the tree.
"Legolas!" his father was calling for him, the king wasn't alone his own guard walked with a party from Lorién, armored. "Legolas!" the tall dark- haired king walked into the meadow, he carried a sword and bow, his armor was splattered with orc blood and spider blood.
"Adar," Legolas first whispered, then cried out; "Adar!" he climbed down from the tree and ran against his father.
"NO!" the child heard his fathers hysterical call as something hit him hard in the back. Several Lorién and Mirkwood arrows flew pass him as he sunk to his knees; he felt his fathers' strong arms around him before everything faded.
"Nîn ion," Thranduíl said looking anxiously at his sons still form, with shaking hands he felt for a heartbeat. He refused to look at the black thick arrow sticking out of his most beloved child.
"Thranduil?" it was Haldir of Lorién, his childhood friend who was kneeling behind his sons back, investigating the arrow.
"He is alive. Was Elrond among the party that arrived yesterday?"
"No, we'll have brake the shaft of the arrow. Eledhin, help me; hold it as hard as you can, I'll brake it." The dark arrow seemed so large in the fragile youngsters back. Thranduíl closed his eyes as he heard his son moan in the unconscious state.
"Poisoned," Eledhin whispered disgust in his voice.
Haldir helped Thranduíl to rise carefully with the boy resting in his arms.
He had seen that the arrow was poisoned, and he knew enough to see that the wound alone might come to kill the prince.
"Eledhin, go to the camp outside Mirkwood, you should find Mithrandir and hopefully also Elrond there," Haldir said to the elf looking at the king, walking swiftly for the safety of the caves.
"Yes, milord, Araen, Fenith, come with me."
You want to know more?
Review, just don't fry me, it smells so bad. Tired swede.