Title: What Once Was Lost
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Bummer...
A/N: I know that Elves aren't abusive of their children. No, this isn't some overly-done possession thing. Just pay attention and you'll get it eventually. And yes, I realize that there are holes in my plot. That's the point. Deal with it.
Legolas sat in the clearing, eyes closed, legs crossed, hands in his lap. He took deep, steady breaths, clearing his mind. The trees around him, twisted with age, but still beautiful, swayed in a gentle breeze. The blonde Elf was completely silent, listening to the voices of the forest, and for those few brief moments he was at peace.
A twig snapped behind him, breaking Legolas' concentration and shattering the silence of the forest. Legolas stood and turned, already knowing who he would see there. His father, Thranduil, stood before him, his fingers clenching and unclenching, lips a thin line; his face was flushed in anger. Legolas' eyes hardened as he glared at the person he used to look up to.
"You broke my concentration." He spat, not a good idea under the circumstances. Thranduil glared back at him icily. The elder Elf strode forward, Legolas cringed: he knew what was coming. Thranduil curled his fingers into a tight fist, bringing his arm back, preparing to strike.
"Foolish child," Thranduil brought his fist forward with all of his strength, lending it with a thud against Legolas' cheek. The young Elf fell to the ground, dazed. He shook himself, wiping blood from a long, deep cut on his cheekbone from Thranduil's ring. He stood and proudly faced his father. He had only just gotten to his feet when Thranduil's fist crashed into his face again and he crumpled to the ground, and this time he didn't get up. Shadow's filled the corners of his eyes and the shifted in and out of focus as he slipped in and out of consciousness. Thranduil kicked at him, breaking several of his ribs and bruising his back, legs, and arms. His foot connected with the side of Legolas' head and he passed out, welcoming the numbing darkness.
Thranduil took deep breaths, staring in disgust at the still from of his son. I hope he dies here, he thought, shooting one last vicious kick at his son's face. The hard sole of his shoe cut a deep gash in the pale skin of Legolas' forehead, just above his left eyebrow. Thranduil turned and marched out of the clearing, not even bothering to look back at the destruction he had caused.
The trees whispered to each other, carrying an urgent message to Rivendell. The Elf prince was dead. Killed by his father's hands. The prince was not dead, really, but the trees couldn't tell the difference. They could not have known that the somber message could prove to be the young Elf's saving, for a couple of miles away a dark haired king rode to visit an old friend.
Aragorn rode past the edge of Mirkwood as the message reached his ears. 'The prince is dead. The Elf prince is dead. Killed by his father the king. The prince is dead...' Aragorn's eyes grew wide in disbelief; a cold fear gripped his heart.
TO BE CONTINUED...
A/N: This is a re-posting, I hope all my lovely reviewers can find it again. Please review. Saph