The King reached out and touched his son's cold face, why did he let this happen? After his wife's death, Thranduil had been so grieved that he had buried himself in work, instead of helping his young son through the ordeal. Legolas had only been four, and his father had never been so reserved from him, so only naturally the elfling had thought it was his fault. No one had ever told him otherwise, so ever since, the Elf had carried the heavy burden, and had pushed himself to both his mental and physical limits to please his father.

Now those thoughts made their way to the surface and Thranduil was hit with a wave of guilt. He had brought his son to death. He didn't try to conceal the tears that formed in his eyes nor did he wipe them away when they began to course down his face. The King wanted to turn and leave, to hide from the facts, but he knew he couldn't abandon his son now. Thranduil knelt beside the wagon which held his son's maimed body and wept. All of his previous control vanished and the great King of Mirkwood rested his head against the wood and cried his soul out. He wept for his son, for his wife, and for all the wrongs he had done to them both.

Legolas didn't know what was happening, it felt like his heart was in his throat as he plummeted downward into the abyss. Suddenly he saw the earth, but he was flying over it, viewing it from a bird's perspective. He marveled at the beauty that he had never before noticed. Legolas wanted to stay here, there was no doubt now in his mind. Then he felt himself falling again until he was slightly under the tree-tops, then he saw a long procession of Elves and Men on horses, carrying large banners of many colors. Then he saw a sight that chilled the marrow in his bones. His father was on his knees weeping beside Legolas' own dead body. The Elf didn't really know what to think, but his heart soared knowing that his father did love him and never meant to be so cold. Though his thoughts ended abruptly and he felt himself falling, this time there was no resistance, this time he would crash.

Thranduil stood slowly up and reached out once again to caress Legolas' lifeless face, but the King instead gathered the Elf up into his arms and cradled him, crying. "Ion nin."

Suddenly, Legolas sputtered, blood spraying everywhere. Everyone present gasped, just a few seconds ago, he had been dead, something was amiss. Though Thranduil had no such thoughts, the only thing that went through his head was that Legolas was alive. He held Legolas out in front of him, and seeing that he wasn't mistaken he called out, "Someone! Get the healers!"

It took a few seconds before anyone moved, but soon the whole forest was in an uproar. All of the healers in Mirkwood flocked to the palace, everyone was running around with buckets of hot water or rags or bandages. All of the higher ranking officers were barking orders, though no one heeded them, so eventually that stopped. Legolas was taken to his private quarters where only Thranduil and the healers had access to.

Remnul, the most authoritive of the healers, had to lock Thranduil out of the room because he definitely knew nothing about medicine and was constantly in the way. Aside from that, and Legolas needing a lot of stitching and bandaging, everything was going as well as anyone could expect.

But something was wrong, everyone felt the dark foreboding in the back of their mind. An evil was at work here that could not be undone, whether they were aware of it or not. Even the exuberant King knew that the happiness wouldn't last for long. Something was wrong.