Disclaimer: I own nothing.
An Early Frost
Chapter Three
Tiercel and the elite guards traveled quickly on the trail of the raiding orc party, pushing themselves to their limits in the hopes that their speed would save their beloved prince. Tiercel felt his dread rising as the tracks showed sign of slowing and stopping barely five minutes down the path, almost as if they knew and expected to be found. The air was then rent by a yell of pain in a voice that was clearly their prince. With a sharp glance the guards drew their bows, ready to strike from a distance as soon as they were within range. As they saw the sentries at the edge of the orc camp just as a scream of agony rang through the trees, followed immediately by another scream with the voice cracking into nothingness. Arrows were released and orcs fell to the ground dead without a sound allowing the elves to approach the center of the encampment silently, killing more of the enemy as they went before they finally came across the core party of orcs circling a single area. The rough sound of laughter and jeers sent chills through the spines of all the elven guard as their enemies were dispatched without trouble. They had come across the enemy so quickly and silently that none of the monsters were able to draw weapon against them. The most unnerving happening was at the end of the battle.
The large leader of the orcs stood from his position on the ground, just in front of where Tiercel was sure that Legolas was laying inert upon the cold ground. An evil grin spread across his blackened, foul features revealing yellowing, sharp teeth and a laugh escaped his lips before he began to speak to the elven captain. "You were quick in your approach, little good it has done for you or who you were coming to protect. The Necromancer sends his regards to Thranduil Elf King along with this little present." The orc then raised his dagger, already red from spilt blood, and slit his own throat, taking the opportunity for revenge away from the elven guards. His now limp body fell back, directly on the pale, unconscious body of the prince behind him, and the forceful addition of his deadweight pulled a broken groan from the tortured lips of the prince.
Tiercel felt horrified by what he saw when he caught sight of Legolas beneath the now dead orc. "Check the area, make sure no more remain," he heard his voice command without a thought and he continued, "Lindë, stay here and help me with the prince." Without question his commands were followed by the others and the dark haired Lindë mirrored his moves to remove the dead weight from their unconscious prince.
They were both horrified when they recognized the fact that Legolas was unclothed for all to see, and nothing of the torture was left to the imagination as they took in the wounds upon the pale body, with more being revealed as they removed the offensive form of the orc. Gently they removed the metal stake that was still protruding from the prince's shoulder releasing along with it a sluggish flow of blood and a look of discomfort on the pallid features. The only result that their inspection had was to raise the worry in their hearts as they saw the many, many wounds along the entirety of the elf's body that should have been freely bleeding had slowed into a sluggish flow showing that he was at dangerous levels of blood loss. "We must hurry. I fear for his recovery should he not reach the healers soon." He took his own cloak off his shoulders as his eyes took in the tattered remains of the fine clothing Legolas had been wearing when he had left his chambers in the palace lying on the ground only feet away, past the point of the hope of repair. He gently picked the beloved prince off the ground and gently cradled the limp body in his strong arms, concerned at the moan that escaped the pale lips at the movement.
Lindë looked at the broken body with concerned eyes, and lifted the cloak momentarily in order to check the arrow wound that they knew was present on his back and he gasped in shock and surprise. With a somewhat shaking hand he reached down to an area that Tiercel could not see, and with a brief look of indecision made a pulling motion, his action causing the young prince to writhe weakly in the strong arms, mouth opening in a motion that looked as if he were trying to audibly make known his pain and discomfort, but had no voice left to express himself. Tiercel held the prince more tightly, whispering soothing words into the prince's ear as the copper haired head lolled limply onto the lightly armored shoulder of the trusted guard captain that he had known since his earliest days of childhood. After a moment the rest of the guards returned ready to guard the way of the captain and prince as they returned by the quickest route to the Healing Halls at the forest stronghold, knowing them to be better protected than those at the palace, even though the prince would have to be moved after he returned to awareness due to his claustrophobia. Tiercel locked eyes with Lindë, silently commanding him to silence over the exact state of their prince as well as the nature of the entirety and seriousness of his injuries. Out loud he asked, "You have kept what we found?" He received a nod in return and his answer was to turn in the direction of the palace compound and say, "We run," before his feet took him at a run towards the direction of home as swiftly as was possible.
"Milady!" came a surprised exclamation at the sight of the queen entering the Healing Halls from the Senior Healer Gwilwileth. The silver blonde healer took in the queen's injuries with an experienced eye, seeing at once that they were not fatal, but were serious enough that if not treated soon, they could very well become more serious. She immediately escorted the queen to a bed, releasing Tathan with a nod, her brusque bedside manner taking over as she began talking to her patient, "What has happened milady?" She began to peel back the queen's clothing at the shoulder to probe the deep stab wound. After making sure that there were no foreign objects in the deep wound, she began to split herbs to place on the wound to promote quick healing before binding it with clean white bandages.
"I followed my son to the outer gardens after he quarreled with Thranduil once more about joining the guard. While I was trying to convince him to return with me to the palace the orcs that we had received word of earlier this day came upon us. I fear that I have come out of the conflict more favorably than he," the queen answered almost mechanically while her wound was treated most efficiently by her friend of many years.
Gwilwileth quickly finished the bandaging of the wounded shoulder while she listened to the queen's answer and in order to hide her concern she turned away to brew a pain killing potion while she took a deep breath. Once she had control of herself once more she asked, "And where is Prince Legolas now? I assume that I shall seeing him shortly at the very least."
At this a sob burst past the queen's lips as the tears she had been holding back since she had seen her only child carried of by the hands of the foul band of orcs. "They took him 'Wileth," she sobbed burying her face in her hands, tears flowing just as stubbornly as she had been holding them back previously.
Gwilwileth set down the herbs she had been working with, letting her assistant take over the brewing of the potion with but a look of instruction and returned to the queens side, consciously sitting on the uninjured side and wrapping a caring arm around the thin shoulders. "I am sure that Tiercel and the guards will have him back before you know it. He will be fine. Legolas is as strong as he is brave, stubborn, and mischievous."
Her comforting was interrupted when the door to the Healing Halls was thrown open with such force that it almost slammed back into the tall, golden figure that had flung it open. "Alaryia!" the baritone voice called out as he gathered his wife into his strong arms. "It soothes my heart to hold you in my arms, Beloved." He tightened his hold on his treasured wife, the love of his life, as she buried her face in his shoulder allowing her tears to flow freely, no longer attempting to hold back the feelings that she had been fighting against since her son had begun to fight against the forces of darkness. "Tiercel will have our Leaf back before you know it. He has never failed me since he and I trained together. I trust him with my life as well as Legolas's."
"He is injured, love," she whispered sadly, "He is in pain, and is not here to take comfort in our arms." Her tears then began to flow more freely once more.
"Shh, Beloved." He comforted gently, running his hand tenderly through her mussed copper brown hair, attempting to soothe his own nerves as well as her own. "Our Little Leaf will be back in our arms before you know it." He looked up and caught Gwilwileth's eye. Within the depths of his emerald green eyes she saw the remorse and guilt that he was feeling at the last words he had shared with his beloved son, those of insult and furious anger. The healer could tell that her king was trying with all his massive will to hold back his own fears at the wounding and abduction of his son in order to better comfort and support his wife. His feelings of guilt at driving his son to the gardens with their argument made him appear as if the weight of blame for his family's hurts lay upon his shoulders.
The assistant healer lay a hand gently on Gwilwileth's arm and held the mug of pain killing tea out for the master healer before leaving the chamber to enter one of the other various rooms of the elaborate healing halls in order to give them a little privacy while they dealt with the worry of the abduction of the beloved prince. The healer gently placed a hand on the queen's shoulder and said gently, "Milady, I know that this is not a very convenient time, but I know that you are in pain from the wound that you took to your shoulder. Here is a tea that will help to dull the pain and allow you to rest in order to regain your strength. When you reawaken your son will have returned and be resting as well. He will need you at your best to help him to recover from his wounds as well."
Alaryia looked at her friend in a similar fashion as if she had suddenly grown extra heads with the topic the healer had just brought to the fore of conversation. At the look on her face, Thranduil felt a gentle smile spread across his features, "Come now, Beloved. Gwilwileth knows what it is she speaks of as there is a reason she has became the youngest master healer in the history of the woodland realm. The more rest that you receive now, the more prepared you will be when Legolas is recovering and attempts to escape his chambers as you know that he will. He has never been a very good patient or at having patience at his own weakness." He pressed a tender kiss to the pale forehead of his beloved wife as she reluctantly accepted the mug of pain killing tea and she began to sip the tea silently, pulling a face at the extremely bitter taste of the potion. As she finished the final dregs of the tea Thranduil gave her a tighter comforting squeeze around her shoulder. "That's a girl," he whispered gently, running a hand down her hair.
"Our Leaf will be home before you know it. He will be safe and I swear that I will do all within my power to make sure he stays that way." He cradled her gently in his arms, whispering calming, soothing words to his love until the potion had taken its full effect, first only causing her eyelids to flutter as she resisted sinking into the blissful call of sleep. With only a few moments of humming the same lullaby that he sang to Legolas when he was a small elfling, her eyes closed and her breathing evened out and deepened, signaling that she had truly sunk into the realms of sleep. Thranduil gently lay her back onto the bed where they had been sitting, arranging her comfortably on the many pillows that were available so that her rest might have the greatest aid in her recovery. As he ran a hand gently over the newly care worn forehead a sound alerted both him and Gwilwileth to the arrival of another patient, Thranduil allowed the hope to rise in his heart that this was his friend Tiercel returning his beloved only child safe to his arms where he could ask for forgiveness for the harsh words that he had thrown without a thought or care at the effect that they would have.
The door opened to reveal two standing figures, one cloak less, laden with a burden covered by the cloak that obviously had been about his own shoulders and the other opening the door with care and worry lined on his youthful features. Thranduil rose to his feet immediately recognizing who it was coming into the healing halls. Exhaustion, worry, and care were all present in the face of Tiercel, and the novice Lindë's own features mirrored those of the captain, as well as just a tint of fear tinged pity as his eyes fell upon the pallid still features of the prince. Gwilwileth immediately jumped into action and silently directed the captain to bring the elfling to one of the operating tables, knowing that the prince's injuries were much more serious than those she had treated on the queen, and would lead to the loss of more blood, so she wanted to preserve as many of the hall's linens as possible, knowing the initial treating would result in the most loss of blood while in the halls and no longer on the battlefield. Carefully Tiercel lay the prince on the appointed table and the king came to his son's side as the healer gathered many of the supplies that she would need for sure for the treating of the as of yet unseen wounds of the young elf. Thranduil carefully placed a hand against his son's pale, chilled cheek as if to assure himself that the small figure was truly there.
At the warm touch of the loving hand a small moan escaped from the pale lips of the prince and the emerald eyes slowly blinked open blearily only to catch sight of his father. "A-ada?" he whispered brokenly, his voice barely audible to even the acute elven healing of the king who was but inches away from him.
"Shh, it is alright 'Las," he said gently, moving his hand to smooth the copper hair, so much like his mother's, back from the bruised forehead, long fingers carefully avoiding the bright bruising of his temple where he had been struck unconscious. "You are home now, and I will take care of you."
Legolas seemed to only make sense of the fact that he was home and that his father was the one that he had awoken to see, as he once more whispered, "Ada…I'm sor-rry." Before a single silver tear streaked across his features trailing from the pain filled emerald eyes down the sculpted cheek bone and then down to the pillow settled gently beneath his head. His return to consciousness lasted for but a moment longer until another small, pained moan escaped from his blood-drained lips and his pain-dulled eyes slipped closed once more into blessed unawareness.
By this point Gwilwileth had gathered all that she knew she would need and found her way to the prince's side just as his eyes were closing once more. "Milord," she said quietly, haste evident in her gentle voice. "I need to treat Legolas now, before he slips any further away from us."
He moved back only inches from his former position at this command. "I wish to be here, Gwilwileth. I must know that he will be alright," he almost pleaded with the healer eyes showing the true depths of his emotions, heart breaking sadness plain in the emerald eyes that he had passed on to his son.
"As long as you do not get in the way of the healers, you may stay," she said gently before giving him a stern look and her voice turning to a darker shade of command, "I reserve the right to tell you to leave should you become too emotional by what you see left upon your son's skin by those filthy orcs."
Thranduil's face slipped into the neutral mask that he wore when in court and nodded has acquiescence as he moved back farther from the surgery table, allowing room for three more healers to take their place alongside Gwilwileth.
Without wasting anymore time, she pulled back the cloak covering the prince's battered body. No matter their combined experience at the treating of wounds, winces were seen from all the healers and even Thranduil at the sight of the injuries on the prince's upper torso alone. More bloody gashes were revealed as the heavy material was pulled back carefully inch by inch in order to keep it from pulling at the wounds that had begun to scab over and causing them to bleed once more. Horror passed over the Healer's faces as they began to gently clean the various wounds with clear water, gently removing the marks of battle and torture from the pale skin that had been unmarked before this point and would never be again. Gentle fingers began stitching the deep, gaping gash on the right forearm after checking to make sure that there was no chipping or breakage of the bone that was revealed, as others meticulously tended the knife slices along the well toned thighs and hips, and still others tended the holes in the shoulders that were left by the metal stake wielded by the orc torturer, and the last began to stitch the slices on the lower abdomen that had gone deeper and threatened more than the others caused by the knife. They then needed to treat the wounds at his back without putting any strain on the multitude that they had already treated on his front. His father stepped forward and lovingly and gently lifted his son into his arms to allow the healers room to work.
As the number of wounds being treated now was reduced to only one, Gwilwileth released the other healers and tenderly cleaned the arrow wound herself, gently putting several stitches in the skin not only to promote proper healing but to also stop the blood that was still feebly fighting its way through the torn flesh. The clean white bandage was then neatly fixed in placed and Thranduil carefully lowered his son back down onto the surgery table and rose once more to his feet, only to see the healer look at him puzzled. He raised a blonde eyebrow and looked down at himself only to see a dark stain on his pants where he had been supporting the lower parts of his son's body, and he gently touched golden fingers to the damp splotch and they came away red with blood. Horror lit his eyes even though his face remained impassive as he gently raised his son's body once more, this time lifting him from his repose completely, standing so that Gwilwileth could see what new injury this blood was coming from. A quick intake of breath confirmed the elf king's suspicion as to the whereabouts of this new wound, and the healer quickly retrieved a salve from one of the shelving units, spreading it on her fingers and began to apply it to the area while the king kept his eyes on his son's face. This new treatment managed to raise a response from the prince where the rest of the healing had brought forth not a single murmur. This tore even more at the king's heart as his beloved son's tears leaked out of eyes that became tightly squeezed shut as the discomfort roused him from his unknowing reprieve with memories of what had been done to him.
His unrest was noted by the kind healer whose eyes were filled with sadness as she had to continue to add to his discomfort, no matter how unwillingly. The aching father did his best to calm and reassure his son. He cradled the broken body as gently as possible while manipulating the head to find the comfortable nook created by the joining of neck and shoulder fiving him the ability to hide from whatever foes he may be feeling looking at him and began to murmur gently in the ear, opposite of the one that looked as if it had been bitten by the enemy at some point during his abduction. "It is alright my son. You are home and being looked after. No more harm shall come to you 'Las." His heart ached as he felt tears soak through his heavy court robes to wet his skin. It was unsettling to feel the tears and yet have his son remain completely silent even as his body held such tension and pain that he should have been expressing in some way other than the falling tears. Gwilwileth then moved back to notify the king that she had finished the treating of wounds for the moment and she then retrieved a white robe from the linen cupboard and with the strong arms to help her they managed to drape it around the prince's thin shoulders before they took him to the bed that neighbored his mother's, gently propping him up with the multitude of pillows to relieve as much strain from his wounds as possible before covering him with several soft blankets to keep him warm.
As he lay there, as comfortable as they could manage to make him, his eyes opened from their tight seal and locked with those of his father once more, sadness and remorse filling their depths. Before any word could be spoken by either of the two Gwilwileth returned from her momentary absence with a mug of tea that she raised to the prince's mouth, encouraging to drink its contents. He barely made it halfway through the liquid when his eyes fluttered closed once more and he was unaware of the world again.
A/N: Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think or if you find any mistakes. I can't fix them or improve if no one lets me know their opinion.