Well, I'm able to get it here faster. This seriously was going to be the post to end it, then my plot bunny grew. Ah well, next part should be up in a week. Thank you all for your wonderful reviews! I was overwhelmed by your wondrous comments. :) I'm messing with Thranduil's power over things, so it probably doesn't fit cannon. Oh, to answer one question. Yes, this is before LOTR.
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Thranduil drew himself out of his dazed state, and went silently to his son's side. Gently, he took the younger Elf in his arms, and Legolas buried his face into his shoulder, shuddering slightly in terror and pain.
"Ada," Legolas whispered.
"Shhh, nin ion, we will leave as soon as we are able," Thranduil said, his eyes trailing from his son to the two opponents in front of him.
Holding his son close to him, he gently examined the wound on Legolas's shoulder. Worry mounted in him as he noted that the blood coming forth was not red as it should be, but black as night.
The corpse let out an ugly laugh that echoed through the small clearing, "I am far to powerful now for even you to stop me, Ecthelion of the Lost," the creature spat.
"Perhaps, for I am but a shadow from Mandos's halls, yet, I am far greater then you shall ever be. Address me as I am, for I am no longer of the lost," the spirit said, and his sword blazed forth, "Come forth and let us finished this, or would you throw more defiled words from your stolen mouth?"
"This foul body is rightfully mine, as are your decedents and that resurrected fool of your heart, for they are the payments that you owe me for killing me," Gothmog said.
"I owe you nothing, " Ecthelion spat.
"It matters not now. I will not give up your body, I have avenged myself upon all of your linage, for the young one will be joining you soon enough, and the soul of your brother is near mine. There is nothing you can do," Gothmog leered.
"But I can," Thranduil murmured, and released the carefully kept anger in his soul.
The faint harmony within the forest had been silent, until it heard its master's call. Now it roared up in full splendor, terrifying and dangerous in its own ways, and was bent by Thranduil's will to center around Gothmog.
The dagger in the corpse's hand dropped to the ground as Gothmog tried to cover his ears, to no avail.
"You should never have dared to come near my family," Thranduil hissed, holding his shuddering child tightly in his arms, "And now you will pay"
The harmony rose, turning sharp as a sword that pierced through to Gothmog's mind and soul, draining all power from him as it crashed upon him. Then Ecthelion moved quickly, and his sword flashed as it sank into the corpse's chest. The rotted skin and cloth peeled back from the sword, revealing a dark soul within. Gothmog screamed in agony, and the body exploded. Thranduil covered Legolas as sharp bone and sickly flesh rained around them, then he turned his back to see that where the corpse had stood, a black infernal raged, with Ecthelion's sword still imbedded in it. The dark spirit then disappeared, but Thranduil could not suppress the feeling that it was not over yet.
Ecthelion turned, and he seemed a shade more translucent now then when Thranduil had first laid eyes upon him. Kneeling, the silver Elf Lord, smiled faintly at him.
"So, my daughter's daughter's husband, at last we meet, though it be upon such dreaded terms," Ecthelion said, and reached out with a tender hand to Legolas.
Thranduil nearly pulled his son away from the spirit, for he trusted none to touch his son when he was grievously wounded. Yet when Ecthelion gently touched Legolas's cheek, careful of the scars it had, the young Elf seemed to relax more, and his eyes fluttered shut.
"I can do nothing, even for one of my own and Gothmog is still about, waiting for this one's soul to depart. No healer in your halls can save him now," Ecthelion said sadly.
"Then what can I do?" Thranduil asked, for he sensed that this was true, Legolas was wounded more then physically, and no healer within his kingdom could help him.
"The son of my Lady's son is the only one that can save him now, for only he and his line were given such a gift. But Gothmog travels there as well, for he seeks my brother's soul, so you had best be on your guard," Ecthelion said and stood.
"Will you travel with us?" Thranduil asked.
"As long as the Valar let me. Do you know of what place and who I speak of?" Ecthelion asked.
"Rivendell, and Elrond, yes I know," Thranduil said.
His pride was great when it came upon the subject of Elrond, for the two had never been close, and after the Last Alliance, they had parted nearly enemies. But now was not the time to bring up the past, for even his pride was such a small matter when it came to his son.
The sound of horses and soft Elven feet came to Thranduil's ears. Gathering his son in his arms, he stood and was struck by a wave of dizziness. He had forgotten that he was injured slightly, but he cared nothing for it at the moment, his son was far more important.
The first of his captains came forth from the thick foliage, leading Thranduil's horse behind him. The younger Elf paled slightly as he caught sight of Legolas's limp form in Thranduil's arms.
"My lord, is he?" the captain started, but Thranduil interrupted him.
"No, he is not. But I must leave immediately for Rivendell," Thranduil said, and hurried forth to his horse.
Sitting Legolas upon the saddle, he then quickly got up behind him, ignoring the pain growing in his mind. Gently laying his son to rest upon his chest, he then took up the reigns from his captain.
"Tell Calenfalas to take charge," Thranduil said, and rode forth, leaving the shocked captain behind.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I think I should explain Ecthelion for those that have not read Silmarillion. Ecthelion is the Chief of the House of the Fountains. He slew Gothmog, and in doing so, was slain as well. The reverence to 'The Lost' is apart of my fic, 'Fire and Water' which tells the lives of Glorfindel and Ecthelion in the first age, it is only a reverence that Ecthelion's parents were taken by Morgoth, and Ecthelion was left, lost.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Thranduil drew himself out of his dazed state, and went silently to his son's side. Gently, he took the younger Elf in his arms, and Legolas buried his face into his shoulder, shuddering slightly in terror and pain.
"Ada," Legolas whispered.
"Shhh, nin ion, we will leave as soon as we are able," Thranduil said, his eyes trailing from his son to the two opponents in front of him.
Holding his son close to him, he gently examined the wound on Legolas's shoulder. Worry mounted in him as he noted that the blood coming forth was not red as it should be, but black as night.
The corpse let out an ugly laugh that echoed through the small clearing, "I am far to powerful now for even you to stop me, Ecthelion of the Lost," the creature spat.
"Perhaps, for I am but a shadow from Mandos's halls, yet, I am far greater then you shall ever be. Address me as I am, for I am no longer of the lost," the spirit said, and his sword blazed forth, "Come forth and let us finished this, or would you throw more defiled words from your stolen mouth?"
"This foul body is rightfully mine, as are your decedents and that resurrected fool of your heart, for they are the payments that you owe me for killing me," Gothmog said.
"I owe you nothing, " Ecthelion spat.
"It matters not now. I will not give up your body, I have avenged myself upon all of your linage, for the young one will be joining you soon enough, and the soul of your brother is near mine. There is nothing you can do," Gothmog leered.
"But I can," Thranduil murmured, and released the carefully kept anger in his soul.
The faint harmony within the forest had been silent, until it heard its master's call. Now it roared up in full splendor, terrifying and dangerous in its own ways, and was bent by Thranduil's will to center around Gothmog.
The dagger in the corpse's hand dropped to the ground as Gothmog tried to cover his ears, to no avail.
"You should never have dared to come near my family," Thranduil hissed, holding his shuddering child tightly in his arms, "And now you will pay"
The harmony rose, turning sharp as a sword that pierced through to Gothmog's mind and soul, draining all power from him as it crashed upon him. Then Ecthelion moved quickly, and his sword flashed as it sank into the corpse's chest. The rotted skin and cloth peeled back from the sword, revealing a dark soul within. Gothmog screamed in agony, and the body exploded. Thranduil covered Legolas as sharp bone and sickly flesh rained around them, then he turned his back to see that where the corpse had stood, a black infernal raged, with Ecthelion's sword still imbedded in it. The dark spirit then disappeared, but Thranduil could not suppress the feeling that it was not over yet.
Ecthelion turned, and he seemed a shade more translucent now then when Thranduil had first laid eyes upon him. Kneeling, the silver Elf Lord, smiled faintly at him.
"So, my daughter's daughter's husband, at last we meet, though it be upon such dreaded terms," Ecthelion said, and reached out with a tender hand to Legolas.
Thranduil nearly pulled his son away from the spirit, for he trusted none to touch his son when he was grievously wounded. Yet when Ecthelion gently touched Legolas's cheek, careful of the scars it had, the young Elf seemed to relax more, and his eyes fluttered shut.
"I can do nothing, even for one of my own and Gothmog is still about, waiting for this one's soul to depart. No healer in your halls can save him now," Ecthelion said sadly.
"Then what can I do?" Thranduil asked, for he sensed that this was true, Legolas was wounded more then physically, and no healer within his kingdom could help him.
"The son of my Lady's son is the only one that can save him now, for only he and his line were given such a gift. But Gothmog travels there as well, for he seeks my brother's soul, so you had best be on your guard," Ecthelion said and stood.
"Will you travel with us?" Thranduil asked.
"As long as the Valar let me. Do you know of what place and who I speak of?" Ecthelion asked.
"Rivendell, and Elrond, yes I know," Thranduil said.
His pride was great when it came upon the subject of Elrond, for the two had never been close, and after the Last Alliance, they had parted nearly enemies. But now was not the time to bring up the past, for even his pride was such a small matter when it came to his son.
The sound of horses and soft Elven feet came to Thranduil's ears. Gathering his son in his arms, he stood and was struck by a wave of dizziness. He had forgotten that he was injured slightly, but he cared nothing for it at the moment, his son was far more important.
The first of his captains came forth from the thick foliage, leading Thranduil's horse behind him. The younger Elf paled slightly as he caught sight of Legolas's limp form in Thranduil's arms.
"My lord, is he?" the captain started, but Thranduil interrupted him.
"No, he is not. But I must leave immediately for Rivendell," Thranduil said, and hurried forth to his horse.
Sitting Legolas upon the saddle, he then quickly got up behind him, ignoring the pain growing in his mind. Gently laying his son to rest upon his chest, he then took up the reigns from his captain.
"Tell Calenfalas to take charge," Thranduil said, and rode forth, leaving the shocked captain behind.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I think I should explain Ecthelion for those that have not read Silmarillion. Ecthelion is the Chief of the House of the Fountains. He slew Gothmog, and in doing so, was slain as well. The reverence to 'The Lost' is apart of my fic, 'Fire and Water' which tells the lives of Glorfindel and Ecthelion in the first age, it is only a reverence that Ecthelion's parents were taken by Morgoth, and Ecthelion was left, lost.