Chapter Four
New chapter here for everyone! This is the second to last chapter, and there will be an epilogue/chapter of sorts posted sometime next week, but then that's it! Hopefully there'll be some more works coming soon, but I can't promise anything.
For the guest who asked in a review: Belhadron's title/job is a little complicated. He's Legolas' second in command, so he's not technically a captain, but he basically is because of how long he's been around and because he does a lot of things that a captain does as Legolas gives him that freedom. But when Legolas is incapacitated or not there, Belhadron is acting Captain, because he's the second in command, so he takes charge.
As always, reviews are very welcome. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and read this work so far- it means a lot to me!
0-o-0-o-0
Thranduil stayed by Legolas' bedside for as long as he could manage, watching the rise and fall of his son's chest as he slept. He could feel the deep well of worry and grief that lurked beneath his thoughts, but he refused to let it rise. Not even with the bloodstained bandages on the table nearby, or the concerned murmurs of the healers, would he let that overtake him.
Belhadron was sat on the other side of the bed, buried in work. Occasionally he'd hand something over to Thranduil to read or sign, but for the most part he was silent. Thranduil could see the turmoil still very close to the surface of his skin, so he didn't push.
Legolas stirred uneasily on the bed, and Thranduil reached out for him, smoothing his hair back from his forehead. It was too hot under his touch, and Thranduil did what he could, wetting a cloth and placing it over Legolas' forehead.
Belhadron looked up. "Is it getting much higher?" he asked, worry leaking into his voice.
Thranduil shook his head. "No higher than it should be, I think," he replied. "I'll have the healer check when they next come over, but it's probably nothing." Legolas had been badly injured, and it was only to be expected that he developed a slight fever to fight off any infection.
His attention turned back to his son. He should be working; Elbereth knew that there was far too much that needed to be done. But for a few hours, he was going to sit here and he was going to let himself be a father. Which meant mindlessly worrying over all the things that could go wrong in the next few days.
He'd been here before. He'd sat here many times before, sometimes with Belhadron sitting opposite, sometimes with Belhadron lying in the next bed over. And the fear never changed, only grew each time, along with the feeling that his luck was running thin. After all of these years, after so many near misses and lucky escapes that had kept his son alive, he wondered when they were going to run out.
0-o-0-o-0
The room was, in the early hours of the morning, quiet. A healer was on duty, as always, and there were a few more elves in the other beds that had been brought in from the front line, but they were asleep and silent. Legolas was unconscious still, his fever going down so slowly nobody was sure if it really was, but the healers were no longer treading carefully around him, so Belhadron assumed things were looking better.
He heaved a sigh, and looked back down at the report he'd been attempting to read. There was a pile of paperwork on the bedside table that he'd been working through for hours now, and he was fairly sure he'd read the report in his hands at least three times without actually taking any of it in.
"This is all your fault," he muttered, looking down at Legolas' sleeping form. He huffed a laugh. "And now I'm talking to you whilst you're unconscious. Great. I really haven't had enough sleep."
"You know, they say talking to yourself is the first sign of madness," came a soft voice from the shadows. Belhadron was proud that he didn't reach for the knife now resting on the table.
"What's the next sign?" he asked wryly as Rhavaniel stepped out of the shadows and towards the bed. "Homicidal tendencies towards your extended family? Shortly followed by unrestrained urges to burn a fleet of ships?"
Rhavaniel's lips curled in a grin. "You've been reading too many of Legolas' history books," she said, coming to perch on the edge of the bed. "How is he?"
"A little better," Belhadron said with a shrug. He reached out and took the cloth off Legolas' forehead, rewetting it with a bowl of ice water on the floor before putting it back. "It'll take a while for him to come back from this, though."
"And you?"
Belhadron arched a brow. "What about me?" he asked.
Rhavaniel studied him for a moment. "You look exhausted," she said. "You don't have to sit here, you know. Even Thranduil has gone."
"Thranduil is King," Belhadron murmured, turning back to the report in his hand. "He hardly has the luxury to do what he wants. He trusts me to send word if anything changes, and to make decisions if he is not here. Therefore, I stay here."
"You need to come back to work soon," Rhavaniel said. "You can't hide here forever."
"What do you think I am doing?" Belhadron asked, gesturing at the parchment piled on the bedside table. "This isn't fun, even by your twisted standards of enjoyment. This is my work at the moment."
Rhavaniel levelled him with a look that had made lesser elves cringe. As it was, Belhadron just arched a brow and turned back to his report. "You know what I mean," she said. "The frontline is a delicate situation. Without Legolas, we need you there."
"I'm needed here," Belhadron murmured. "And no, not just because Legolas is there unconscious. His archers need direction, and someone needs to coordinate the army from a position of strength, not from a constantly moving command position in the southern woods."
Rhavaniel snorted. "Even on the best of days his archers don't have any direction at all," she said. "That's why they're his archers. They can look after themselves, or we can split the company up and integrate them with the other companies until Legolas is back."
"If you want to do that, you can tell them," Belhadron said. "They won't be happy, though. They're all terribly protective of Legolas."
"Really?" Rhavaniel asked dryly. "I hadn't noticed." She studied Legolas for a moment, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he slept. It was only because he'd known her for so long that Belhadron could see how shaken Rhavaniel had been by the news of Legolas' injuries. It was hard to tell in just the light of the small lantern he was working with, but he suspected she'd come straight to the healing wards from whatever assignment she'd had.
"I'm not against you coordinating from here," she said. "Though you know that's not as easy or as useful as it sounds, given the delay in messages reaching here from the frontline. But you're compromised, Belhadron, and you know it."
"Don't worry," Belhadron said with a wry smile. "I'm not about to go and find a fleet of ships to burn. And my days of seeking whatever revenge I can find are quite far behind me now. We all learnt those lessons a while ago, and you know that."
Rhavaniel sighed, and got up from the edge of the bed. She walked over to him and wrapped an arm around him. "He's going to be fine," she murmured. "All of the healers think that, even the ones who are usually miserable about everything." She twisted, glancing at him. "You do know this wasn't your fault, right?"
Belhadron snorted. "You know that's one of the first things that we teach more experienced soldiers," he replied. "You know all of us captains have spent hours, at one point or another, talking an elf down from that proverbial cliff. Knowing when something was your fault, and when the world is just plotting against you and you did everything you could and it went wrong regardless, is one of the most important things to know with this perpetual bloody war."
Rhavaniel arched a brow. "And yet, you didn't answer my question," she said, pulling away and looking over at him, her face shadowed in the dim light. "I've seen the frontline. In chaos like that, it's often down to luck whether you walk away unscathed."
Belhadron rolled his eyes. "I may only be Legolas' second, but I do know about these things," he said. "I've been in the army longer than you have, Rhavaniel."
Rhavaniel laughed softly, and Belhadron's features softened into a slight smile. He knew that this was just her way of making sure he was coping well enough, and he would grant it to her, if only because he would end up in some sort of pain if he fought against it.
Rhavaniel sighed, and then got to her feet. "I'll leave you to your vigil," she said. "I've got to see the King, and I have work to do. I'll come fetch you if the need arises, or whenever I decide you've been sitting around for too long and need to properly get back to work."
Belhadron nodded. "Can you tell Thranduil that his fever has gone down a little?" he asked. "And give him these reports to sign off on." He handed over a stack of parchment to Rhavaniel, and watched her walk away until he couldn't distinguish her from the shadows anymore.
0-o-0-o-0
Legolas stayed unconscious for three days. After the first night Belhadron had to go back to work, and left the healing wards with Legolas' archers still standing guard. The frontline was still a mess, though once the initial attack had been contained it was more a matter of pushing the orcs back and doing what they could to ensure they weren't able to recoup and attack again. Rhavaniel's spies spent a lot of time beyond the lines, making sure that didn't happen.
Belhadron dropped his head into his hands, and looked at one of the other two captains at the table. "Do we really have to do this now?" he asked. "Right now?"
"The orders are two weeks late," one said with a wry smile. "If we don't, we won't have any new weapons for the next six months." At those words, the third captain groaned, and dropped her head to the table.
"When is the next report from the frontline coming in?" she asked one of the lieutenants, all sat at the other end of the table. "And where is the last one?"
One of the lieutenants shuffled through the various pieces of parchment on the table, pulling one out and handing it over. Belhadron levelled the lieutenants with a glare, just on principle. After all, he had a reputation to maintain, and with Legolas still unconscious in the healing wards, he wasn't inclined to be nice to them.
After some debate the lieutenants were sent off to do whatever it was they needed them to do, and Belhadron eyed the empty inkpot on the table, wondering if he threw it at them as they left he'd get in trouble. One of the captains huffed a laugh.
"I say we never let Legolas do anything dangerous again," she said. "If it puts you in this foul a mood. We should make him become a scholar, not a warrior."
Belhadron rolled his eyes. "Do you honestly think I wouldn't have done that if I could?" he asked. "Believe me, my life would be so much easier." He sighed, resisting the urge to screw up the report in front of him and throw it in the fire. "I'm going to grab a few minutes of sleep on the divan. Wake me up after twenty minutes."
He got up and headed over to the various couches in front of the fire, pulling off his sword belt and setting the weapon down at the side of the couch. "Don't get mud on it," warned one of the captains, and Belhadron glowered at them before toeing off his boots and all but collapsing onto the divan. In no more than a few minutes he was asleep.
"I don't care if the King murders me for it, I am giving Legolas a piece of my mind as soon as he's awake," one of the captains muttered. "He makes all of our lives more difficult whenever this happens."
"Who, Legolas or Belhadron?" the other asked with a wry grin. "They're both as stubborn as each other, so you won't make any difference." She glanced at Belhadron. "We're not waking him up after half an hour, are we?"
"Of course not." The captain shuffled around some of the parchment in front of them, and picked up her quill. "He's been worrying over Legolas for days. Let him sleep whilst he can."
They pinned a note to the door with a knife to warn people to be quiet, and got on with their work as Belhadron slept. If they'd left him alone, they were fairly sure that he would have slept for hours, catching up on all the rest he'd missed or foregone for Legolas over the past few days.
Unfortunately, things got in the way. The door was shoved open only an hour or so after Belhadron fell asleep, with an elf rushing in. Belhadron stirred on the divan, sitting up slowly as one of the other captains fixed the elf with a glare.
"Next time, learn to read," she snapped.
"Not important," the other elf snapped back, and Belhadron recognised the voice, as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, of one of Legolas' archers. Hope and dread kindled simultaneously as he got to his feet, shoving his boots on.
"Belhadron," the archer said, a grin flicking across her face. "He's waking up."
0-o-0-o-0
The darkness seemed annoyingly familiar. There was someone talking. He couldn't quite hear what they were saying, but their voice was familiar and he clung onto it. He didn't use it to pull himself anywhere, didn't do anything but try and listen. He felt tired, beyond anything else, and didn't want to do much more than just drift in the darkness.
The voice got more demanding, and slowly the darkness began to break up around him. He made the mistake of moving, and a choked gasp slipped through his lips at the flash of pain through his side.
The first thing he saw, when his eyes finally flickered open, was the plain white ceiling of the healing ward that he unfortunately knew quite well. He turned his head slightly, wincing at the aches sinking through his entire body and the sharp stabbing pain in his side.
Belhadron was sat in a chair next to his bed, a grin slowly spreading across his face. "You're a sight for sore eyes," he murmured. "Welcome back."
Legolas grimaced. "Not sure I want to be back quite yet," he whispered. "How long?"
"Three days," Belhadron answered. His face was enough to tell Legolas everything, but Belhadron spoke anyway. "You cut it close this time."
"Sorry," Legolas rasped. "I didn't really mean to."
Belhadron laughed, but it was far too close to a sob, and grief spasmed across his face for a moment. "The healers say you're going to be fine," he said. "A long recovery, but you'll be back to normal in a few months." He glanced up, looking over at something Legolas couldn't see. "And they're giving me not very subtle glares," he added, laughing. "I'll get out of their way, and let your archers know you're awake. They're very worried about you."
Legolas huffed a laugh, and then winced. "Tell them I'm… tell them whatever you want," he whispered. Belhadron laughed, and got to his feet.
"It is very good to see you," Belhadron said, grasping Legolas' hand. "And I'm going to leave before the healers chase me away. Your father should be here any moment; they sent for him at the same time they sent for me." He gave Legolas' hand a final squeeze, and then walked away with some reluctance.
It was only a few minutes before the doors flew open and Thranduil strode in. The healers wisely stepped back from the bed.
"Legolas," he breathed, crouching down beside the bed and pressing a kiss to his forehead. "How are you feeling?"
"Tired," whispered Legolas, a faint smile on his lips. Thranduil stroked the hair back from his face.
"That's to be expected," he replied. "Don't worry about anything. You're going to be fine, and between Belhadron and I we've got everything covered. Just focus on getting better."
Legolas grimaced. "That's boring," he whispered back, because he knew it would make his father lose the worried pinch of his brows.
Thranduil laughed under his breath, a fond look on his face as he ran his hand through Legolas' hair, like he had done when he was a child. "I'm sure your archers will come up with plenty of ways to entertain you," he said. "They're all waiting outside now, but I told them they're not going to see you until you've regained a little more of your strength." Legolas hummed in agreement. His eyes were already flickering shut against his will, merely staying awake for a few minutes taxing enough. Thranduil pressed another kiss to his forehead.
"Go to sleep," he murmured. "I'll see you when you wake up."
Legolas murmured a protest, but it was swallowed by a yawn. Without any say in it, he fell into sleep.
0-o-0-o-0
The wound had been serious, and for the next three days Legolas only managed to be awake for minutes at a time, if not less. At least one of his archers was always there; they were taking their guard duties very seriously, and had not stopped standing at sentry at the door since Legolas had been brought in. Belhadron spent as much time in the healing wards as possible as well, often working right beside Legolas' bed, but he was a Captain, and he had a job to do.
Thranduil visited every day, as often as his own responsibilities would allow him to. Sometimes he could only stay for a few minutes before someone came looking for him and he had to leave, but sometimes, late at night when the realm was quiet, he managed to stay beside Legolas' bed for hours.
It was one of these nights, with the healing wards quiet and lit by the soft light of lanterns hanging from the walls, that Legolas woke up once again. He grimaced, wincing at the ache in his side.
"How do you feel?" Thranduil asked softly, smoothing Legolas' hair back from his forehead.
"Tired," Legolas murmured. "As usual. It's going to get boring soon."
A smile curled the corners of Thranduil's lips. "Please don't get bored and try to get out of bed when you're not ready," he said. "You've scared me enough over the past week."
"Sorry," Legolas murmured. Thranduil shook his head.
"Don't apologise," he said. "Don't ever apologise for doing your job, or for getting hurt because of it. You never asked for this life, but you've shouldered it none the less, and I am so very proud of you for it. So you don't ever need to apologise. I'm your father. It's my job to worry."
Legolas huffed a laugh. "You're getting sentimental," he said with a grin. "Careful, or someone will see and your reputation will be ruined."
Thranduil scoffed. "I don't care if my reputation is in tatters, as long as you are safe," he replied. "You know that you're more important than anyone else." He reached out and took Legolas' hand, smoothing his thumb over the back of it and feeling the reassuring pulse beneath the skin of his wrist.
Legolas smiled, but yawned halfway through. He winced as the movement pulled at his side. "Go back to sleep," Thranduil murmured, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Get better." Legolas nodded, but his eyelids were already flickering shut, and soon he fell back into sleep. Thranduil stayed there, hand loosely holding onto Legolas', beneath the soft light of the lanterns.
Legolas murmured a protest, but it was swallowed by a yawn. Without any say in it, he fell into sleep.
As always, reviews are very welcome. I'll see you all next week.