It wasn't entirely devastating for Thranduil to learn that Thorin would rather toss the Halfling over the side of his hand-made barricade than share his dragon-hoard of treasure with the people of Laketown and/or return Thranduil's gems back to him. The only truly hard part of the entire encounter was the knowledge that Dragonslayer was willing to go to battle with these Dwarves despite the pain he must have been experiencing.
Thranduil had heard Dain and his meager army approaching from miles away, the sight of them riding over the ridge not surprising them at all.
He had seen the hard glint in Dragonslayer's eyes as the Man prepared himself for a longer battle than he'd hoped for.
When the Orcs appeared, Thranduil was prepared to let the Dwarves be slaughtered. But then he thought of Dragonslayer, of the Man's children, of what the Man had echoed from Tauriel about the darkness being allowed to spread throughout the land.
Thranduil fought. He fought until he was allowed to breathe again - his elk, by the stars she would receive a proper burial - and he looked around himself and all he saw was death.
He forgot himself. He forgot Dragonslayer, he forgot the promises he made, he forgot the people of Laketown, Sigrid, Bain, Tilda. All he thought of was the Elvish blood that stained the snow around him and the bodies - the Elvish bodies - that laid upon it and he ordered Feren to recall his company. He had no need to fight for the mistakes of these Dwarves - he needed to keep his people safe and as far away from things as possible.
His protective nature almost got him killed.
Thranduil began to lead his soldiers out of the battle grounds, out of the ruins of Dale, his mind filled with thoughts, images, feelings, sounds, scents all having to do with the soldiers, his people that he lost. His mind was clouded and his thoughts were scattered, as were many of his kin's. When the Orcs attacked, Thranduil expected to be brought down by one weapon or another, yet he found himself unharmed and not a hair out of place.
But Dragonslayer stood in front of him, blood slowly staining the Man's jacket.
It was difficult to stop fighting once there was nothing else to fight, Thranduil realized when the aftermath of the battle was filled with silence just before the sobs began to fill the air.
Dimly he heard reports that Thorin Oakenshield and his kin had survived the battle, though they all required medical attention. The Elvenking's thoughts were on Dragonslayer, who, by now, was on his way to Elrond's tent in order to be healed.
Manners meant very little to Thranduil as he dismissed any and all messengers who attempted to catch his attention as he purposely strode towards Elrond's tent.
He had seen Dragonslayer's wounds and had very little hope in his body that the Man would survive them, though he did not go so far as to doubt Elrond's skill in the art of healing.
Thranduil merely hoped that it was enough to save Dragonslayer's life.
A/N: I was not kidding when I said that this chapter was short. Comment, review, critique, unicorns are all accepted and loved!