Chapter 8
Elrohir and Legolas came to a halt when they could no longer hear the pursuing enemy.
"Do you think we lost them?"
"Who? Father? Elladan? The Orcs?" Elrohir asked bitterly.
"Elrohir...I am we should try and get back to the palace." Legolas spoke quietly, "how is Estel?"
"How do you think?" Elrohir snapped, "I am sorry, I should not take it out on you...they are probably fine. I hope. Come; see if we get a welcome party when we get to your home." They let out short laughs.
"Come, the gates are near." Legolas said as they slowly walked back to the palace gates.
Thranduil sat alone in his study, his mind replaying events over the past few days. Not only had he lost an ally, but his son as well.
Things had not been going well.
Legolas had been right; his actions would probably lead to an unneeded war.
Especially in these dark times. The Nazgûl had reoccupied Dol Guldur. There were reports that the tower was teeming with Orcs, but Gandalf's news of Nazgûl being there...this was too much to handle. Why had his father ever allowed him to take the throne?
"My lord," a guard entered the room quietly, "Prince Legolas has returned and waits at the gate."
"Is he alone?"
"No my lord, one of the Noldor is with him, he seems to be carrying something."
"Let them in." Thranduil sighed, not wanting to know which Noldor was with his son.
"Father..." Legolas bowed slightly, Thranduil looked behind to see one of the twins carrying something carefully.
"Legolas, I have been so worried..."
"That can wait father, please, Estel is on the verge of death; he needs help now." Legolas could not hide the urgency and worry from his voice.
"Bring him this way...hurry." Thranduil ushered them to the healing wing.
The healers buzzed around them as they tried to help the young Human.
"Where is your father?" he asked Elrohir.
"I know not my lord, Elladan stayed with him; I know not how they fare. I wish he were here, he would know what to do."
"Yes, your father is the greatest healer in Arda, I hope he arrives soon. He may be the only chance we have in saving Estel's life." He murmured quietly watching the healers working on the Human's brutalised form.
"Excuse us lords, we do not need you underfoot, I know you re concerned but please, we must work quickly." The head healer ushered the three out of the room, where Thranduil sat, the younger two Elves paced restlessly, fearing the worst would happen to the Human.
Elladan wiped the tears furiously from his face, wandering in through direction of the palace, hoping his brothers were there safe.
Every time he closed his eyes all he could see were the swords going through his father and the elder's face, contorted in pain, although he allowed no sound to escape his lips.
"I am sorry father," he whispered for the millionth time, feeling guilt gnaw at him. The guilt of standing by and doing nothing whilst his father was murdered, or worse, perhaps he had been taken alive.
That thought made him feel so much better.
Elladan suddenly remembered he still clutched what ever object his father had given him, having a fair idea what it was.
The thought was confirmed when he saw Vilya, Ring of Air in his palm. Now he felt his father was truly gone as he placed it upon his finger and it became invisible but the weight was still there.
He carried on walking for a while until he found himself before the entrance to the palace of Mirkwood. Taking a deep breath, he slowly made his way toward it.
The door opened slowly. The two younger Elves stopped pacing and Thranduil stood up. "Well?" the king urged.
"He has been severely wounded my lord. The extents of his injuries are..." the healer broke off, unable to find a word to describe them, "He will be lucky if he sees the sunrise."