E/N: I'm back! And boy, what a chapter to come back with! *laughs evilly*
You'll all see what I mean! And you should all know, there are two more
chapters after this, awaiting uploading, but I'm going to update a day -
possibly two - at a time, just to keep you all on the edge of your seats.
I HATE THIS F***ING COMPUTER!!!!!!!!!! It's done it again, hasn't it?! It went all buggered on me and hasn't saved a f***ing thing! Luckily I had the first part of it on disk and the majority of the rest of it is hand written, but I've just spent nearly 2 hours typing this up, and it's F***ING ANNOYING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It's now 11:35 pm, I'm very tired and irritable and I have to spend f*** knows how long typing this same f***ing chapter up again. Do any of you realise how irritating that is?
Ok, one last thing you should know, Silva isn't allowed to poof (turn people into pot plants etc) guests, regardless of what they're like or what they've done, to her or anyone else. They're not allowed to know her identity anyway, and they can't know about her abilities and stuff in case they decide they want to kidnap her and use it to their advantage and stuff (this is Thranduil's reasoning, so it's bound to be a little stupid, God love him!) It's the whole thing about you can beat the crap out of your closest friends but you're not allowed to be impolite to your enemy. Dammit!
Translations: Vanima yendënya = my beautiful daughter
Chapter 36
After two days of eating only chocolate, Thranduil and Legolas gave up on the 'shared concern' thing, because it was making them feel quite ill. So Legolas took to staying in his chamber, hardly eating or sleeping through concern. And Thranduil was always to be found anywhere but the Throne Room. He was trying to keep doing practical things to keep his mind from worry, it wasn't working.
When a week had passed, a messenger arrived ahead of the returning soldiers with news of the outcome of events.
"What news do you have?" Thranduil asked urgently on returning to the Throne Room to meet the messenger.
"Your army is returning now, my lord," the messenger replied. "The outcome was in our favour, though we had to fight for it." Thranduil sighed as he thought on Silva's words before she left. "...sparing none".
"What did Silvawen order?"
"She met with the temporary leader of the City and put forward your demands to have the right to execute Tarnen for attempted murder and recompense from them for his wrong doings. They declined her offer and she kindly reminded them of the two hundred Elves surrounding the city. She told them that if they would not meet her requirements, they're army should march forth and meet ours. He was apprehensive of this but agreed that we would battle it out." Thranduil was beginning to look slightly happier. Silva had not gone ahead with her original plan of attacking the city merciless if they refused.
"And the result was favourable to us?" The Elf paused awkwardly.
"Er, yes, my lord, in a way," he said uncertainly. Thranduil's eyes narrowed slightly.
"That does not sound positive to me."
"Well, the humans did retreat in the end when the realised they had not the skill or resources or numbers to defeat us. They have agreed to leave Tarnen's sentence to your wishes."
"But?" The messenger shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, no longer able to look his King in the eye.
"But not before considerable damage was caused to us."
"What kind of damage?" The Elf was clearly now fighting with some kind of emotion.
"Well, when Lady Silvawen was fighting, she received a blow to the head. Sh-she's been unconscious for nearly three days." The Elf was trying desperately to keep his level and not let his voice show the fear he held for her life.
Thranduil's face drained of all the blood. Silva was seriously wounded. It was his fault. He'd let her go. He'd never be able to forgive himself. Neither would Legolas for that matter.
"How serious, exactly, is it? Do you know?"
"She has severe bruising o-on the left side of her face, there's a large and deep gash in her r-right side, a b-broken arm and we think she may have broken her ankle also when sh-she fell. From the moment she was smite, she lost consciousness." Thranduil, who was previously standing, fell back into his chair from shock.
"Ai lissë Elbereth, mankoi vanwa lle úmë sina ana qúen ikotanë1," he mumbled, his head in his hands. He looked to the messenger. "You may leave." The Elf turned, but Thranduil spoke again. "Send no word to Prince Legolas. I would see the damage for myself and tell him personally." The Elf nodded and left the room as Thranduil's tears began to flow.
**
Legolas sat in his chamber nervously, awaiting the news of the return of his lover. He had been so worried for the days she had been away that he was finding it hard to eat or sleep, and his concentration was limited; his mind kept wondering to thoughts of how she was faring.
As he sat pondering the outcome of the mission, he was blissfully unaware of the chaos ensuing in the Healing House.
**
"I'm sorry, sire, the answer is no," said the Healer, Berae. He had given Thranduil all the facts of Silva's situation and was now unsuccessfully trying to stop him from seeing the woman.
"Are you telling me you will not let me pass, no matter how nicely I ask?" Thranduil said angrily.
"Yes, my lord, that's exactly what I'm saying."
"Then I shall have to order you to let me see her."
"I would not have her disturbed, my lord."
"Are you disobeying a direct order from your King, Berae?" Berae sighed. He knew he was fighting a losing battle. (E/N: No pun intended)
"No, sire. You may go in. But please do not trouble her." Thranduil walked in and closed the door.
He gasped when he saw her. His eyes were immediately drawn to the large blue and purple and yellow bruise that covered the left side of her face and the bloodied knot of matted hair where the blow had been taken. The other side of her face was deathly white. Small cuts and scratches also covered her formerly stunningly beautiful face. He saw her arm bound tightly with linen bands and was supported by a sling around her neck. The bed sheet covered her only to the waist, revealing her bandaged waist, it was bloodied at the side. Her breathing was shallow with frighteningly long pauses in between each breath.
He covered his mouth with his hand and walked slowly to her, sitting next to her.
"Oh, Silva," he whispered as a solitary tear slid down his cheek. "Oh, Silva, what have I done? This is my fault. I should have stopped you going. Why did I have to give in to you? I am so sorry. Vanima yendënya." As he watched her, he knew that he had to go and tell Legolas. He kissed the unharmed part of her face and silently left the room. He felt so guilty. If this all ended badly, he would never be able to forgive himself. Nor would Legolas for that matter.
Everything appeared as a blur around him. It didn't feel real. It should be him lying in that bed, if anyone. It should have been he leading the army to Esgaroth and making the demands. Why did he have to be so weak when it came to Silva? He would do absolutely anything she asked of him. This was his major downfall because he could not see when some situations could end disastrously (such as this one). 'Please forgive me, my son.'
Thranduil knocked the chamber door.
"Come in," came a deep, anxious voice. The King did as asked. "Father!" Legolas got quickly to his feet and Thranduil strode towards him. "Do you have news? Have they returned?"
"Yes, they have just returned."
"And Silva?" Thranduil grimaced and Legolas saw it. The look of glee that had lit up his face slowly ebbed away and left one curiosity and suspicion.
"Silva..... she was injured in battle - badly." Legolas' face fell. "She lives, though I fear for how long. Each of her injuries together amount to a critical situation." The Prince's reaction was much similar to that of his father, he had to sit down.
"Wh-what happened?" he whispered. "What's wrong?"
"The largest concern is the blow to the head. She became unconscious on impact and the bruising on her face is severe. She has a broken arm, ankle and two broken ribs. The other main concern is the is the wound in her side - a deep gash. It won't stop bleeding and if she suffers much more blood loss, she could..... it could be fatal."
This information seemed to go in one ear and out the other. No, this wasn't - couldn't be - real. It had to be either a dream or a trick. Silva had fought and survived many battles. She'd told tales of the Last Alliance and the Wars of Darkness against Melkor. A stupid squabble with the neighbouring city was nothing. He needed to see her for himself to convince himself whether it was real or not - he wasn't sure which to expect now.
"Where is she?"
"In the Healing House. Legolas, it's not a pretty sight anyway and I'm not sure if-"
"She needs me," he growled, "and you've certainly proved that you don't know what's good for her or her health." He stormed out of the room.
Blame and anger surged through his mind like poison. There were so many people he wanted - no, needed - to blame. Silva, herself, for being so stubborn, insisting she go alone. Tarnen for being a complete bastard and starting all this in the first place. Thranduil for letting her go and no having the will or courage to hold her back. The Mirkwood Elves for not protecting the woman they claimed to love so much as they had always promised they would. The lousy humans that did this to her. But, most of all, himself. If he hadn't been so weak as to show how deeply cut up he was at the prospect of losing his one and only true love, if he hadn't cried, Silva wouldn't have deemed him emotionally unstable and unfit to fight. Silva would be unharmed.
He entered the Healing House of the castle to find the Healer writing something quickly and a female messenger stood waiting at his side.
"I need these as quickly as you can get them to me," Berae ordered. The messenger nodded and turned to see Legolas standing silently, grave of face.
"I.... I...." she began to stammer.
"You heard him, it's urgent," snapped the Prince. "Get going!"
"Yes, your highness." She scurried quickly out of the room. Legolas turned his gaze on Berae.
"Is it as my father tells me?" he asked anxiously.
"Whatever King Thranduil has told you is accurate as I have given him all the details of her condition and he has seen her for himself." Legolas hung head.
"May I see her?"
"I would advise against it, sire."
"But you allowed my father to see her."
"I did not allow him to enter until he directly ordered me to let him pass. It was against my wishes as she needs rest and, despite being unconscious, visitors will not allow her that."
"I will not order you to let me pass."
"That is appreciated, sire."
"But I would get on my knees and beg. If you asked it of me, I would give up all my possessions, title and all, just to be with her now." His eyes pleaded with the Healer. Berae hated seeing the usually happy, hyper, smiling Prince of Mirkwood in such a desperate state. He remembered him as an Elfling, wreaking havoc in the Healing House, but even then, he had never been able to refuse him anything. (E/N: O_o To spoil the mood, that's just WRONG!) It was much as Thranduil's attitude to Silva. He sighed and nodded.
"You may go in. And you can stay as long as you wish, just do not disturb her." He pointed to the door behind which lay the wounded Istari.
"Thank you, Berae." Legolas approached it and put his hand on the handle, but paused. He had to be prepared for what he was about to see, he knew it would shock him to see her in such a way. 'But it can't be worse than the depression, surely.'
He walked in and closed the door behind him before he looked at her. When he did turn and look, he was totally taken aback.
"Oh gods," he murmured and then rushed to her side. "Oh gods, Silvawen, what did they do to you?!" Seeing her like this was worse than last time. At least then she hadn't been bruised, cut, scratched, unconscious, bandaged or beaten. He took her hand and kissed her knuckles softly.
Nobody saw anything of their prince for five days. He refused to leave her side because he intended to be there WHEN she woke up - it wasn't a question of if.
"She will wake up," he told his father sternly, "for she knows, if she does not, I follow her."
"But you have to be prepared for all eventualities, my son."
"I am." Legolas showed him the blade that hung at his waist. "And do not call me your son," he added icily.
"Legolas, please, I know you are angry, but I could not keep her behind."
"You are king, no matter where she ranks. You have the power to control her actions."
"At the price of her hating me? I think not."
"Then you have you priorities wrong. She needs a life in order to love you."
"And you assure me she will live, so what is the problem?"
"This!" Legolas stood angrily and pointed at his beloved with the hand that did not already hold one of hers. "In case it slipped your mind, Silva has been lying unconscious in here for the passed five days. And she was so three days before that!" Berae came in quickly, flinging the door open.
"If you two do not keep your voices, I shall have to ask you to leave," he said irritably.
"Sorry," mumbled Thranduil. Legolas sat back down silently, his face like thunder.
"If you continue to disturb her rest, she will not come round or recover."
"We really are sorry, aren't w- Legolas?" Thranduil asked curiously. The Prince was staring wide-eyed at Silva, a nervous smile playing at his lips. Silva's eyes were fluttering open and closed.
"Silva? Sil, are you awake, my sweet?" Legolas held her hand in both of his. Her eyes had stopped moving now, but he continued talking regardless. "If you can hear me, sweetheart, let me know!"
"Legolas," Berae interrupted. Legolas ignored him.
"Come on, love, wake up! We're all waiting!"
"Legolas, stop."
"Everyone wants you awake again."
"Legolas, stop. There's no point, it won't work," sighed Berae, sadly, in resignation. "She's gone. We've lost her. She's stopped breathing."
**
1Oh sweet Elbereth, why have you done this to one so innocent?
E/N: One last thing I need to tell you. By this point, Tarnen has been executed for the attempted murder of Lady Silvawen and Prince Legolas of Mirkwood. They killed the sick, molesting, w***ing b*****d!
I HATE THIS F***ING COMPUTER!!!!!!!!!! It's done it again, hasn't it?! It went all buggered on me and hasn't saved a f***ing thing! Luckily I had the first part of it on disk and the majority of the rest of it is hand written, but I've just spent nearly 2 hours typing this up, and it's F***ING ANNOYING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It's now 11:35 pm, I'm very tired and irritable and I have to spend f*** knows how long typing this same f***ing chapter up again. Do any of you realise how irritating that is?
Ok, one last thing you should know, Silva isn't allowed to poof (turn people into pot plants etc) guests, regardless of what they're like or what they've done, to her or anyone else. They're not allowed to know her identity anyway, and they can't know about her abilities and stuff in case they decide they want to kidnap her and use it to their advantage and stuff (this is Thranduil's reasoning, so it's bound to be a little stupid, God love him!) It's the whole thing about you can beat the crap out of your closest friends but you're not allowed to be impolite to your enemy. Dammit!
Translations: Vanima yendënya = my beautiful daughter
Chapter 36
After two days of eating only chocolate, Thranduil and Legolas gave up on the 'shared concern' thing, because it was making them feel quite ill. So Legolas took to staying in his chamber, hardly eating or sleeping through concern. And Thranduil was always to be found anywhere but the Throne Room. He was trying to keep doing practical things to keep his mind from worry, it wasn't working.
When a week had passed, a messenger arrived ahead of the returning soldiers with news of the outcome of events.
"What news do you have?" Thranduil asked urgently on returning to the Throne Room to meet the messenger.
"Your army is returning now, my lord," the messenger replied. "The outcome was in our favour, though we had to fight for it." Thranduil sighed as he thought on Silva's words before she left. "...sparing none".
"What did Silvawen order?"
"She met with the temporary leader of the City and put forward your demands to have the right to execute Tarnen for attempted murder and recompense from them for his wrong doings. They declined her offer and she kindly reminded them of the two hundred Elves surrounding the city. She told them that if they would not meet her requirements, they're army should march forth and meet ours. He was apprehensive of this but agreed that we would battle it out." Thranduil was beginning to look slightly happier. Silva had not gone ahead with her original plan of attacking the city merciless if they refused.
"And the result was favourable to us?" The Elf paused awkwardly.
"Er, yes, my lord, in a way," he said uncertainly. Thranduil's eyes narrowed slightly.
"That does not sound positive to me."
"Well, the humans did retreat in the end when the realised they had not the skill or resources or numbers to defeat us. They have agreed to leave Tarnen's sentence to your wishes."
"But?" The messenger shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, no longer able to look his King in the eye.
"But not before considerable damage was caused to us."
"What kind of damage?" The Elf was clearly now fighting with some kind of emotion.
"Well, when Lady Silvawen was fighting, she received a blow to the head. Sh-she's been unconscious for nearly three days." The Elf was trying desperately to keep his level and not let his voice show the fear he held for her life.
Thranduil's face drained of all the blood. Silva was seriously wounded. It was his fault. He'd let her go. He'd never be able to forgive himself. Neither would Legolas for that matter.
"How serious, exactly, is it? Do you know?"
"She has severe bruising o-on the left side of her face, there's a large and deep gash in her r-right side, a b-broken arm and we think she may have broken her ankle also when sh-she fell. From the moment she was smite, she lost consciousness." Thranduil, who was previously standing, fell back into his chair from shock.
"Ai lissë Elbereth, mankoi vanwa lle úmë sina ana qúen ikotanë1," he mumbled, his head in his hands. He looked to the messenger. "You may leave." The Elf turned, but Thranduil spoke again. "Send no word to Prince Legolas. I would see the damage for myself and tell him personally." The Elf nodded and left the room as Thranduil's tears began to flow.
**
Legolas sat in his chamber nervously, awaiting the news of the return of his lover. He had been so worried for the days she had been away that he was finding it hard to eat or sleep, and his concentration was limited; his mind kept wondering to thoughts of how she was faring.
As he sat pondering the outcome of the mission, he was blissfully unaware of the chaos ensuing in the Healing House.
**
"I'm sorry, sire, the answer is no," said the Healer, Berae. He had given Thranduil all the facts of Silva's situation and was now unsuccessfully trying to stop him from seeing the woman.
"Are you telling me you will not let me pass, no matter how nicely I ask?" Thranduil said angrily.
"Yes, my lord, that's exactly what I'm saying."
"Then I shall have to order you to let me see her."
"I would not have her disturbed, my lord."
"Are you disobeying a direct order from your King, Berae?" Berae sighed. He knew he was fighting a losing battle. (E/N: No pun intended)
"No, sire. You may go in. But please do not trouble her." Thranduil walked in and closed the door.
He gasped when he saw her. His eyes were immediately drawn to the large blue and purple and yellow bruise that covered the left side of her face and the bloodied knot of matted hair where the blow had been taken. The other side of her face was deathly white. Small cuts and scratches also covered her formerly stunningly beautiful face. He saw her arm bound tightly with linen bands and was supported by a sling around her neck. The bed sheet covered her only to the waist, revealing her bandaged waist, it was bloodied at the side. Her breathing was shallow with frighteningly long pauses in between each breath.
He covered his mouth with his hand and walked slowly to her, sitting next to her.
"Oh, Silva," he whispered as a solitary tear slid down his cheek. "Oh, Silva, what have I done? This is my fault. I should have stopped you going. Why did I have to give in to you? I am so sorry. Vanima yendënya." As he watched her, he knew that he had to go and tell Legolas. He kissed the unharmed part of her face and silently left the room. He felt so guilty. If this all ended badly, he would never be able to forgive himself. Nor would Legolas for that matter.
Everything appeared as a blur around him. It didn't feel real. It should be him lying in that bed, if anyone. It should have been he leading the army to Esgaroth and making the demands. Why did he have to be so weak when it came to Silva? He would do absolutely anything she asked of him. This was his major downfall because he could not see when some situations could end disastrously (such as this one). 'Please forgive me, my son.'
Thranduil knocked the chamber door.
"Come in," came a deep, anxious voice. The King did as asked. "Father!" Legolas got quickly to his feet and Thranduil strode towards him. "Do you have news? Have they returned?"
"Yes, they have just returned."
"And Silva?" Thranduil grimaced and Legolas saw it. The look of glee that had lit up his face slowly ebbed away and left one curiosity and suspicion.
"Silva..... she was injured in battle - badly." Legolas' face fell. "She lives, though I fear for how long. Each of her injuries together amount to a critical situation." The Prince's reaction was much similar to that of his father, he had to sit down.
"Wh-what happened?" he whispered. "What's wrong?"
"The largest concern is the blow to the head. She became unconscious on impact and the bruising on her face is severe. She has a broken arm, ankle and two broken ribs. The other main concern is the is the wound in her side - a deep gash. It won't stop bleeding and if she suffers much more blood loss, she could..... it could be fatal."
This information seemed to go in one ear and out the other. No, this wasn't - couldn't be - real. It had to be either a dream or a trick. Silva had fought and survived many battles. She'd told tales of the Last Alliance and the Wars of Darkness against Melkor. A stupid squabble with the neighbouring city was nothing. He needed to see her for himself to convince himself whether it was real or not - he wasn't sure which to expect now.
"Where is she?"
"In the Healing House. Legolas, it's not a pretty sight anyway and I'm not sure if-"
"She needs me," he growled, "and you've certainly proved that you don't know what's good for her or her health." He stormed out of the room.
Blame and anger surged through his mind like poison. There were so many people he wanted - no, needed - to blame. Silva, herself, for being so stubborn, insisting she go alone. Tarnen for being a complete bastard and starting all this in the first place. Thranduil for letting her go and no having the will or courage to hold her back. The Mirkwood Elves for not protecting the woman they claimed to love so much as they had always promised they would. The lousy humans that did this to her. But, most of all, himself. If he hadn't been so weak as to show how deeply cut up he was at the prospect of losing his one and only true love, if he hadn't cried, Silva wouldn't have deemed him emotionally unstable and unfit to fight. Silva would be unharmed.
He entered the Healing House of the castle to find the Healer writing something quickly and a female messenger stood waiting at his side.
"I need these as quickly as you can get them to me," Berae ordered. The messenger nodded and turned to see Legolas standing silently, grave of face.
"I.... I...." she began to stammer.
"You heard him, it's urgent," snapped the Prince. "Get going!"
"Yes, your highness." She scurried quickly out of the room. Legolas turned his gaze on Berae.
"Is it as my father tells me?" he asked anxiously.
"Whatever King Thranduil has told you is accurate as I have given him all the details of her condition and he has seen her for himself." Legolas hung head.
"May I see her?"
"I would advise against it, sire."
"But you allowed my father to see her."
"I did not allow him to enter until he directly ordered me to let him pass. It was against my wishes as she needs rest and, despite being unconscious, visitors will not allow her that."
"I will not order you to let me pass."
"That is appreciated, sire."
"But I would get on my knees and beg. If you asked it of me, I would give up all my possessions, title and all, just to be with her now." His eyes pleaded with the Healer. Berae hated seeing the usually happy, hyper, smiling Prince of Mirkwood in such a desperate state. He remembered him as an Elfling, wreaking havoc in the Healing House, but even then, he had never been able to refuse him anything. (E/N: O_o To spoil the mood, that's just WRONG!) It was much as Thranduil's attitude to Silva. He sighed and nodded.
"You may go in. And you can stay as long as you wish, just do not disturb her." He pointed to the door behind which lay the wounded Istari.
"Thank you, Berae." Legolas approached it and put his hand on the handle, but paused. He had to be prepared for what he was about to see, he knew it would shock him to see her in such a way. 'But it can't be worse than the depression, surely.'
He walked in and closed the door behind him before he looked at her. When he did turn and look, he was totally taken aback.
"Oh gods," he murmured and then rushed to her side. "Oh gods, Silvawen, what did they do to you?!" Seeing her like this was worse than last time. At least then she hadn't been bruised, cut, scratched, unconscious, bandaged or beaten. He took her hand and kissed her knuckles softly.
Nobody saw anything of their prince for five days. He refused to leave her side because he intended to be there WHEN she woke up - it wasn't a question of if.
"She will wake up," he told his father sternly, "for she knows, if she does not, I follow her."
"But you have to be prepared for all eventualities, my son."
"I am." Legolas showed him the blade that hung at his waist. "And do not call me your son," he added icily.
"Legolas, please, I know you are angry, but I could not keep her behind."
"You are king, no matter where she ranks. You have the power to control her actions."
"At the price of her hating me? I think not."
"Then you have you priorities wrong. She needs a life in order to love you."
"And you assure me she will live, so what is the problem?"
"This!" Legolas stood angrily and pointed at his beloved with the hand that did not already hold one of hers. "In case it slipped your mind, Silva has been lying unconscious in here for the passed five days. And she was so three days before that!" Berae came in quickly, flinging the door open.
"If you two do not keep your voices, I shall have to ask you to leave," he said irritably.
"Sorry," mumbled Thranduil. Legolas sat back down silently, his face like thunder.
"If you continue to disturb her rest, she will not come round or recover."
"We really are sorry, aren't w- Legolas?" Thranduil asked curiously. The Prince was staring wide-eyed at Silva, a nervous smile playing at his lips. Silva's eyes were fluttering open and closed.
"Silva? Sil, are you awake, my sweet?" Legolas held her hand in both of his. Her eyes had stopped moving now, but he continued talking regardless. "If you can hear me, sweetheart, let me know!"
"Legolas," Berae interrupted. Legolas ignored him.
"Come on, love, wake up! We're all waiting!"
"Legolas, stop."
"Everyone wants you awake again."
"Legolas, stop. There's no point, it won't work," sighed Berae, sadly, in resignation. "She's gone. We've lost her. She's stopped breathing."
**
1Oh sweet Elbereth, why have you done this to one so innocent?
E/N: One last thing I need to tell you. By this point, Tarnen has been executed for the attempted murder of Lady Silvawen and Prince Legolas of Mirkwood. They killed the sick, molesting, w***ing b*****d!