The last few moments were a blur to Legolas. He had only a moment to vaguely notice the orc break free of his grip and notice that it's hands were free before it was lunging at his father. His father was surprised to say the least, but could do nothing to stop the attack.

He had anticipated that his son would be able to hold the creature, and Legolas had failed!

Now was not the time to dwell on past mistakes though, and so Legolas moved faster than lightning itself to get to his father. Before even the guards were aware of what was happening the orc was dead at their feet and Legolas was yelling at them, "Get healers!" before turning to his father, who had not moved after falling against the stone in that entire time.

One of the guards raced off, while the other remained behind to make sure the orc was truly dead.

All this Legolas paid no attention to, his focus entirely on his father.

There was blood coming from a wound to the side of his head, but when Legolas put fingers to the pulse point to check for one, he almost collapsed with relief.

There it was! A strong, steady pulse that thrummed beneath his fingers.

Bowing his head in relief, Legolas gently took his father's limp hand as he waited for the healers. Even though Thranduil was slouched against the stone wall and did not look comfortable at all, Legolas knew better than to move him. Moving him could cause major problems to arise, as well as allow some other injury to make itself known in a thoroughly unpleasant manner.

No, it was better to wait for a healer.

Looking behind him in impatience, Legolas breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Dúlinneth running quickly up the stairs and making her way over to them, a healer's pack in her hands. Behind her were a few apprentices with a stretcher. Dúlinneth was the personal healer to his father, having looked after him since Doriath.

It seemed he had a knack for getting wounded in extreme ways, even though the last incident was before Legolas' birth, thankfully.

Legolas moved over, not letting go of his father's hand the entire time, and Dúlinneth did not try to get him to leave. Despite the image they presented, father and son were extremely close, and she knew she would not be able to get him to leave until he was assured of his father's healing.

Acknowledging him with a nod, Dúlinneth started her examination, taking care when she noticed the blood soaking his near-white locks a horrible crimson.

Other than that, she paid his hair no attention. It could be washed later. Feeling around the area, she found the signs of what would be a very unpleasant few days for the Elvenking. There was already a bump forming on the side of his head, and his head was still bleeding, as head injuries were prone to do.

Gently moving her hands to his neck, she felt it for damage, or anything that could cause problems in the future. Thankfully she found none, but used her hands to brace it just in case as she moved him to be lying flat on the floor with Legolas' help. She motioned to an apprentice, who came and replaced her hands at the base of Thranduil's skull so that she could gauge the severity of his head injury.

She peeled back both eyelids at the same time, and almost instantly sighed. Both pupils were mismatched, and his eyes themselves were unfocused. There was no doubt in her mind that he had a concussion. She closed his eyes and then gently tapped the inside of his eyelids, hoping for a response. She got one, but it was slow and sluggish.

Knowing that Legolas would want to know she turned to him and said, "He has a concussion, hir nín, and will need better tending than we can provide here. I also would like to take a closer look at this wound," she said as she pointed to a small cut on Lord Thranduil's arm that had been missed in the excitement, "orcs blades tend to be dirty enough to cause infection, even without poison."

Legolas nodded, not taking his eyes off his father, and at the same time not really listening to her. Sighing again, this time in exasperation, she took both his shoulders in her hands. She gently shook him and was rewarded with his eyes focusing on her. She smiled and said, "I am sure he will be fine. He is too hard-headed to let something as insignificant as a concussion slow or stop him. And he is not the only one. Come, child, you may stay with him if you like."

Legolas nodded numbly, and quickly let go of his father's hand and stood to give the healers more space to work. Dúlinneth wrapped a bandage around Thranduil's head to absorb some of the blood and protect the wound from further harm, and then she and her apprentices placed the Elvenking on the stretcher, the one apprentice not removing his hands that were bracing the Elvenking's neck.

Two apprentices took up both ends of the stretcher and lifted at the same time, and they began the slow march back to the healing wing, Legolas and Dúlinneth taking up the rear near Thranduil's head in case a problem arose or he woke and was confused, which was a common symptom of a concussion.

Translations:

Hir nín – my lord