Galion relaxed against the wall outside the meeting room, waiting for Thranduil to finish and emerge. He had a stack of papers in his arms in need of signing, two messages that needed responses and a letter from Mereneth.
They had both been up before dawn and Galion felt bad for his prince. He couldn't imagine the mental energy it required to solve all of the continuous problems and urgent messages.
The door banged open, right on time.
Fully expecting Galion go be standing there Thranduil looked to him immediately, not breaking stride "Alright, let's have it."
He passed Thranduil a quil, "Sign."
Thranduil didn't even ask what they were for or for who, he just allowed Galion to flip through the stack if papers swiftly.
Galion took the utensil back.
"I have a message from Ferdan and your father, which one do you want first?"
"Which one am I going to hate less?"
Galion wobbled his hand back and forth, "Eh."
"Perfect. My father's, then."
"You are to ride for Mordor in three weeks. Ready or not, you and your warriors will be departing."
Thranduil growled with displeasure deep in his throat, "And if we do not have proper provisions? Food? Medical supplies? What does he expect us to do? Does he want half of my men to die on the way there? If he insists on three weeks then the warriors are going to need more coin to buy already ready supplies from any human town that can spare them."
Galion ran the message through in his head, twice, to make sure he wouldn't forget it. He had long given up on trying to write things down most of the time.
"Ferdans?"
"None of the Avari tribes will ride with us. They say that the Noldor were the ones to create this problem and they will not let their children die to fix it. I hate to say it, but there are quite a few of our own people who feel the same. He isn't confident there won't be deserters."
"Let me think about my response during my next meeting. Where am I going?"
"The head healer, to discuss which and how many healers are to accompany you and what you will need to buy them for supplies."
"Right, yes."
Reaching into his coat he grabbed the envelope he has hidden there, the king would have recognized her writing on it and neither he nor Thranduil wanted to have that argument with the king so close to war. "And a letter."
Thranduil's expression softened as he took it, a temporary break in the clouds during a gray week, and put it in his own pocket as he headed onto the next meeting.
"I'll see you when you are done," Galion promised and then turned back the way he had just come to deliver his message, and do a hundred other things.
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He would never forget the look on his father's face when he road up to Gil-Galads camp on the behalf of King Thranduil and Prince Thranduil.
Neither of them acknowledged the other.
He did not meet with the High King, but with his herald, Elrond. He had always remembered liking Elrond in Lindon, he was a gentle, soft soul.
With a surprising and delightfully corrupt sense of humor at times.
Elrond seemed to remember liking him as well because he smiled cheerfully when Galion entered the tent, "Galion! Still serving Prince Thranduil, after all this time? I'm impressed!"
He found a returning smile easy to muster, "He's not so bad if you only listen to half the things he says."
Elrond laughed, "I will take your word for it. You are not fighting today, are you?"
Elrond himself looked ready for glorious battle or to be posed for a painter. Galion looked down at his light armor, the one he only wore at Thranduil's insistence, and the sword he had not touched for nearly five years before this day.
And even then only in practice.
"Me? Valar no. I will be running King Orophers camp while they were gone."
Elrond let out a loud, low whistle, "Look at you. And you told me you were hardly more than a messenger boy."
Galion blinked, that had been true once. He wasn't sure when he became a small co-conductor to the symphony that was Greenwood the Great. He stood a little taller, "I mean, I do deliver messages."
Elrond handed him a scroll, "Then this is yours to deliver. Excuse me, my king needs me. As I assume, does yours."
"I do not serve the king," Galion corrected, it seemed important to clarify for some reason. "I serve the prince."
Elrond gave him a look Galion couldn't quite interpret but also didn't really care about. "Yes, I suppose you do. Goodluck, Galion. I hope that after this you still have a Prince to serve."
Galion had been trying very hard not to think about that. The death of the one that had grown surprisingly close and important to him, "And you a King."
They departed with good will lingering in the air behind them.
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The battle was over, he had been told. Actually, the battle had ended around two hours ago, apparently. But the camp had been too swamped with the injured and dying to notice. Or to register.
Finally, somehow, Galion was able to surface from the chaos in time to see the newest messenger. He knew it was not good news by the look on his pale, grief-stricken face. "What happened?"
"King Oropher has fallen in battle."
Galion blinked. It was hard to imagine anything getting the best of Oropher, and even harder to imagine Thranduil letting it happen. There was no being on Arda walking in the light or the dark that would be allowed to harm his father, except perhaps, Thranduil himself.
Oropher was gone.
"And Prince Thranduil?"
The messenger shrugged helplessly, "They have yet to find him. Not even among the dead."
There was a sound in his ears that sounded like the waves of the ocean, loud and punishing. Screaming.
No. Not Thranduil.
Not acceptable.
Without a word Galion marched past the messenger and onto the battlefield on their doorstep, ignoring the bodies that littered the ground like fall leaves.
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He was so numb to his surroundings that he did not notice at first that the warrior in the colors of Gil-Galad was talking to him, specifically. Not his companions he had been searching the dead with.
Somehow, the ocean in his ears allowed him to focus enough to realize it was his father's bloody hand had reached to try and stop him, "Galion, stop! It is not safe! The battlefield is not clear yet, go back and away."
But he ripped himself away, he was far from a warrior but he was not useless with a sword. The King had not allowed such a thing if Galion was going to be around the Prince constantly be might as well be able to try and help defend him should the time come.
"I don't care!"
But his father was relentless and charged after him, stepping in front of him and gripping both shoulders, "They will find the body of your king. You do not need to go and search for him."
He twisted out of the grasp once more, heart thrumming in his ears, "I am not looking for the king's body! I am here to help my prince!" Then, at the top of his lungs, he shouted, "Thranduil!"
His sword grasped in his hand Galion pushed past his father again, this time he did not follow, "Thranduil!"
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"Galion!"
He turned, tripping over the hand of the dead. He did not look to see if it an elf, man, or Orc. He did not want to know. Glorfindel was approaching him, Elrond close by his side.
He had heard about the fate of their king. They had obviously heard about the fate of his.
Galion began to make his way towards them, the pair were covered in all kinds of filth and exhaustion. Elrond, it appeared, still had not been able to stop his tears for his king and cousin, his best friend.
Only Mandos knew how many other people they had both lost this day.
All three came to a stop near one another, Glorfindel steadying Elrond when he stumbled and Galion did not miss that he did not retract his protective grip. "Thranduil? Have you seen him?"
Glorfindel shook his head grimly, "Not since near the end of the battle. But he was very much alive and fighting."
"Where was that? Please? Where?"
Glorfindel pointed back the way he and Elrond had just come, back near the base of the mountain, while Elrond continued to stare forward rather blankly. "Somewhere back there, just beyond the second hill."
Galion nodded to Elrond, "Is he alright?" Reaching into the bag his numb fingers and brain had been smart enough to grab from the camp before he left he offered one the few water skins he had brought, "Here."
Glorfindel accepted it on behalf of Elrond, looking relieved. "He will be okay, thank you, Galion. I hope you find Thranduil."
The two stumbled on into the endless waves of empty and twisted shells, and Galion wadded farther into the ocean of battlefield around them.
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He had never been so glad to see that that infuriating blond head before in his life. "Thranduil!"
The head snapped in his direction, away from the trauma center he seemed to be helping running, but continued to carry the injured warrior in his arms with the same extreme care and grace.
Once he had settled him on the space cleared, he quickly began making his way over to Galion, who, for his part nearly began to run down the hill.
"You idiot!" Thranduil was already yelling while they were still several feet apart, "You should have stayed far away from here! What are you doing?"
Galion came to a stop, all his coiled nerves springing themselves open with a somewhat hysterical laugh, "I came to help you, you idiot! Obviously!"
Tears swam in Thranduil's eyes and he took a few deep breaths, "He's gone."
He took one of Thranduil's hands, "I know."
He blinked away the tears, "You came to help me."
"Yes. Always." He squeezed Thranduil's hand, "You would be a useless mess without me."
"Yes. Probably." He turned away and back towards the injured, "Come and help, then. There is much to do."
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With empty eyes and the imaginary crown nearly hunching his shoulders, Thranduil stared over what was left of his army. Hardly a third of the force they had come with. They had been sitting like this for three hours now, saying nothing.
"He charged before he was supposed to." He didn't blink, he didn't twitch and his eyes looked no less dead, "I tried to convince him away from it. I tried to keep us behind the line. He was furious with me for undermining him."
Galion tried his best not to stare his friend. He knew Thranduil well, better than most, but there was no navigating this kind of grief easily and he feared what it would mean for his soul.
Thranduil had told him about the kinslaying in Doriath, once, and the death of his mother. He had told him that the day still felt like ice in his heart.
"I tried to physically hold him back but he shoved me off and charged. I had to follow. I had to. He's my father."
"I'm sorry, Thranduil."
Thranduil looked away from his sleeping camp for the first time in too long and down to his hands, the hands that Galion had to scrub clean for him because after there was no more pressing matter for him to attend to his brain seemed to lose its ability to function as a whole.
It reminded him achingly of Elrond from earlier in the day.
"Me too, Galion. Me too."
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