Disclaimer: Tolkien owns everything, I own nada.
Chapter 4
Thranduil gently turned his son onto his back. Legolas had an orc arrow protruding fron his left shoulder and from his left thigh, just above the wound he had taken in the first skirmish. Thranduil's breath caught as he searched for some sign that Legolas still lived. As he leaned over his son, Legolas shifted and gave a low moan of pain. Tears of relief filled Thranduil's eyes and threatened to spill down his face. A chill of fear ran down his spine a moment later as he recognized the telltale flush on the younger elf's skin. He swore as he realized the last two arrows had been tipped with one of the many poisons orcs were wont to use. The bushes behind him rustled ominously and Thranduil spun , snatching up his sword to face this latest threat.
"Peace, Milord elf, we mean you no harm!" The human guard captain called out." Please, lower your weapon and let us assist you." Thranduil was torn. He placed no faith in humans, nor indeed in any mortals and precious few elves outside his own realm, but he knew that Legolas would not live long enough for him to reach Imladris without assistance. Swallowing his misgivings and his pride for the sake of his child, he wiped the blade on his leggings, and sheathed it. The captain almost visibly relaxed and swung off his mount. " Garen, Tor, see to the rest of the wounded." The captain approached Tranquil a bit warily. He bowed respectfully to the elf. "Milord, how badly is your companion wounded?" "An arrow to the shoulder and to the leg, both poisoned, and an earlier arrow wound that we were unable to treat," Thranduil answered succinctly. The captain hissed through his teeth as he looked over the wounds of the younger elf, "Poison, that's nasty business. And he kept fighting in spite of that? With respect, Milord, we'd best get him to our healers as soon as possible. Are you injured?" Thranduil shook his head, " Scratches only, nothing serious enough to require immediate attention." The guardsmen charged by their captain with the care of the wounded approached. "Captain Narilt, there are no more wounded. All the others are…." the man halted his report, looking at Tranquil . " Dead, " Thranduil finished for him, his face an expressionless mask. Narilt cleared his throat nervously. "Tor, fetch a horse for our guest, please." Thranduil nodded a curt thanks as he mounted the horse provided for him. Narilt and Tor gently lifted the unconscious Legolas up to the Elven king and Thranduil cradled his son to his chest, careful not to disturb the arrows still lodged in the younger elf's body. The rest of the company mounted and began to ride toward their settlement, the two elves in the middle of the column, leaving the horrid scene in the clearing behind them.
Chapter 4
Thranduil gently turned his son onto his back. Legolas had an orc arrow protruding fron his left shoulder and from his left thigh, just above the wound he had taken in the first skirmish. Thranduil's breath caught as he searched for some sign that Legolas still lived. As he leaned over his son, Legolas shifted and gave a low moan of pain. Tears of relief filled Thranduil's eyes and threatened to spill down his face. A chill of fear ran down his spine a moment later as he recognized the telltale flush on the younger elf's skin. He swore as he realized the last two arrows had been tipped with one of the many poisons orcs were wont to use. The bushes behind him rustled ominously and Thranduil spun , snatching up his sword to face this latest threat.
"Peace, Milord elf, we mean you no harm!" The human guard captain called out." Please, lower your weapon and let us assist you." Thranduil was torn. He placed no faith in humans, nor indeed in any mortals and precious few elves outside his own realm, but he knew that Legolas would not live long enough for him to reach Imladris without assistance. Swallowing his misgivings and his pride for the sake of his child, he wiped the blade on his leggings, and sheathed it. The captain almost visibly relaxed and swung off his mount. " Garen, Tor, see to the rest of the wounded." The captain approached Tranquil a bit warily. He bowed respectfully to the elf. "Milord, how badly is your companion wounded?" "An arrow to the shoulder and to the leg, both poisoned, and an earlier arrow wound that we were unable to treat," Thranduil answered succinctly. The captain hissed through his teeth as he looked over the wounds of the younger elf, "Poison, that's nasty business. And he kept fighting in spite of that? With respect, Milord, we'd best get him to our healers as soon as possible. Are you injured?" Thranduil shook his head, " Scratches only, nothing serious enough to require immediate attention." The guardsmen charged by their captain with the care of the wounded approached. "Captain Narilt, there are no more wounded. All the others are…." the man halted his report, looking at Tranquil . " Dead, " Thranduil finished for him, his face an expressionless mask. Narilt cleared his throat nervously. "Tor, fetch a horse for our guest, please." Thranduil nodded a curt thanks as he mounted the horse provided for him. Narilt and Tor gently lifted the unconscious Legolas up to the Elven king and Thranduil cradled his son to his chest, careful not to disturb the arrows still lodged in the younger elf's body. The rest of the company mounted and began to ride toward their settlement, the two elves in the middle of the column, leaving the horrid scene in the clearing behind them.