"We should bury him," Legolas said as his father cut his bonds.

Thranduil nodded. "Let me examine your head and neck."

"It's just a scratch and some soreness."

"Legolas-"

"You can bind my leg if it will make you feel better, Ada, but other than that, I'm fine."

"Alright."

Legolas grunted as Thranduil felt around the edges of the wound.

"Am I hurting you?"

"No."

Thranduil rolled his eyes. "It's pierced deep, and the tip is barbed. I'll have to break off the shaft."

Legolas frowned. "And… the head?"

"I can leave it there, and you'll be in excruciating pain all your life – with a permanent bruise and permanent limp, if you're not bedridden-"

"Ada, you're… somewhat scaring me."

Thranduil sighed. "That's because the other option is…. Well, for me as your father, it's…. We'd have to cut the barb out."

"I can do that if you'd rather not," Ronan said from the entrance. "I checked the area. There are no signs of enemies nearby. It appears he was only stopping for the night."

Thranduil's face bore an unreadable expression.

"I meant it about his leg. I have medical training."

"I think I'd rather do it."

Ronan nodded thoughtfully. "You realize I saved his life?"

"You shot him in the leg!" Thranduil closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. "You… shot MY son, full-knowing."

"Yet, if the ends and the means are both noble-"

"No. Nothing is going to justify you hurting my family."

"He is my family, too."

"No! You gave up that right!"

"Stop." Legolas looked up from holding his head in his hands. "Let's just take care of my leg. Let Ronan do it, Father. And then, I'm going to take the horse, and I'm going to go get more firewood." He silenced Thranduil's protest with a sharp gesture. "While I do that, you two are going to talk to eachother – and more importantly, you're going to listen to eachother. Because I guarantee that it will hurt me more if you keep arguing, than it will hurt you if you actually listen to what the other person has to say."