Title: In the Healing Halls
Summary: A collection of hurt/comfort one shots centering around Legolas. In this chapter, Legolas struggles to come back to himself after suffering a severe concussion.
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Tolkien, I just like to play in his world.
Author's Note: My intention is to build a collection of H/C one shots. I don't write fanfiction regularly and I add new stories sporadically at best, but this seems more efficient than posting a separate entry for different one shots. So, no promises that this will be updated frequently or on any particular schedule, but hopefully it builds into something worthwhile over time. The story is marked as complete even though I anticipate updating it because each story will be self-contained and complete upon posting. Enough rambling, enjoy!
Fragments
Sunlight danced in the leaves. Or maybe the leaves danced in the sunlight. He wasn't sure which. He couldn't focus on this, or anything, too much. When he tried, pain lanced between his temples and dark spots danced in his vision, blotting out the dancing light and leaves.
"My Prince, are you awake?"
Legolas heard, but did not answer. He did not know who was speaking, nor to whom the unknown who was speaking. He found he did not care.
"My Prince?"
Legolas let his eyes fall closed, dizzy.
"Legolas?" the voice queried cautiously.
That got Legolas' attention. But then the pain spiked again, and the dizziness increased. And then there was the nausea.
Legolas lurched upward and rolled gracelessly onto his hands and knees just in time to avoid vomiting on himself. He felt himself trembling, but the black spots were back again, blotting out sunlight, leaves, trees, and everything.
"Legolas! Answer me, please!"
But Legolas couldn't. He didn't fight the darkness, but greeted it as a friend when it welcomed him into its embrace.
He blinked his eyes open only to slam them shut again. The light was like a knife being driven into his head. The pain was so severe, he wondered dimly if his skull was cracked open.
Even with his eyes closed, it was too bright, too bright, too bright… But he couldn't do anything about it. He wanted to throw his arm up and over his eyes, but his limbs were leaden and heavy. He had neither the strength nor the will to move them.
He groaned, but then cut himself off with a gasp when sound resulted in the same unbearable pain as light.
He sucked in a breath through clenched teeth and fought to regain some semblance of control as even that hushed noise sent spikes of pain through his incessantly throbbing head.
There was nothing he could do. He was a prisoner in his own body. Nothing but pain existed in the world and he could only lay there and suffer.
Voices assaulted his ears. But it was just noise, terrible and painful noise. None of the words made sense. He wanted to tell, no beg, them to be quiet. Please, just let there be silence. But he couldn't think far enough past the pain to form words.
Hands touched him, lifted him. The world flashed white, and then black, and then, mercifully, there was nothing.
Legolas woke suddenly, and looked around in confusion. He recognized the private room in the healing wards he usually was given when injured, but it made no sense. Why was he in the healing wards? Why wasn't he in his own bed? He ached and his body felt heavy, but he couldn't identify anything that would warrant a stay in the infirmary.
He moved to sit up, but was suddenly restrained, strong hands gripping his shoulders and pushing him back into the bed.
"Legolas, stay still," his father whispered to him.
Legolas frowned. His father was here? But why? His father was so rarely able to sit at his bedside, usually his presence indicated a severe injury. "Adar—" he cut off as he tried to sit up again and Thranduil gently held him still.
"Legolas, please stay still."
"Why?" he asked, his voice tinged with confusion. It was an inadequate question given his thoughts, but he couldn't seem to give a more eloquent voice to his confusion.
"Do you not remember? You were badly injured." Thranduil sat back in his chair. The older elf looked exhausted.
Legolas paused for a moment, considering the question and statement, but didn't answer.
"You were struck in the head. The healers weren't sure-," he looked away for a moment, "Many have been worried for you."
He didn't remember that at all, and began to wonder if perhaps his father wasn't alright. He wanted to ask, but couldn't form the words.
He closed his eyes, and let himself drift…
"Legolas?"
Legolas heard his father and moved to sit up, responding automatically to his voice.
"Legolas!" hands restrained him again, "Lie still."
He opened his eyes and met his father's concerned gaze.
"What—" he began, but paused.
Thranduil's brow creased, "Yes?" he prompted.
Legolas licked his lips and gathered himself, "What happened?"
Thranduil frowned, "As I said, you were injured, struck in the head. Do you remember?"
Legolas didn't answer for a long time. Then quietly murmured, "No."
Other voices surrounded him. He heard, but did not process the words.
Forgetfulness is normal—
Forgetfulness? I just told him…
…Sire…calm…
…take time…
My son is…
His father was upset. Legolas could hear it in his voice, even if the words meant nothing to him.
He sat up again, and this time no one stopped him. As soon as he was upright, the world turned upside down. Oh, he thought absently.
He was not sure if the world was spinning or he was, but he wanted it to stop.
Nausea quickly claimed him and he retched without warning. Strong gentle hands gripped his shoulders and he tried to concentrate on that, but he couldn't. Couldn't concentrate on that or anything else. Couldn't get the room to stop spinning. Couldn't get his thoughts in order.
The words came automatically, without thought. Words he'd said so many times before that they were available to him even when it was so difficult to put voice to what he was feeling. "I'm alright," he choked out, "I'm fine, I—"
But he didn't finish the thought. And nothing came after it.
"Are you awake?"
Legolas was laying quietly, staring at the ceiling. He did not try to turn his head, but allowed his eyes to flick to the side. An elf sat at the side of his bed, watching him with a concerned expression.
"Legolas, can you hear me?"
Legolas frowned, "I hear you," he offered. His voice was too loud in his head and he closed his eyes and grimaced at the pain.
He heard the other elf stand and move around in the room, but soon lost track of him.
"Here," the elf said and Legolas flinched, not having realized the other elf had returned, "Something for the pain."
Legolas drank from the offered cup gratefully, "Thank you," he murmured, as the other elf helped to settle him again.
"Forgive me," Legolas spoke again, "But where am I?"
The other elf froze and looked quizzically at Legolas.
"You're in the healing wards, Legolas."
"Oh," he answered, still not certain. Whatever was in the cup worked quickly. There was still pain, but it was more bearable. "Thank you for that," he gestured vaguely toward the empty cup, "I'm sorry though, I don't know your name."
The elf blanched, his face going white, "Legolas?"
"Yes," he answered, confused by the reaction.
Another elf he did not recognize approached his bed, "What do you remember, my prince?"
Legolas frowned in confusion. Prince? "I don't—I don't know," he answered, and fear rose along with his confusion. He looked automatically to the first elf, seeking reassurance from him without knowing why.
"My king," the second elf began.
"What is going on?" the first elf asked, his voice frigid.
"My king," the elf began again, "The head injury was severe, confusion is normal."
"He doesn't know who I am."
"It will likely pass."
"Likely?!" the first elf shouted, clearly angry.
Legolas flinched at the volume.
The elf turned back to him, "Forgive me," he said, much more quietly, "Forgive me. Just—" he trailed off, looking to the second elf uncertainly.
"I'm sorry," Legolas muttered, not sure what he was apologizing about.
"No, you have nothing to apologize for."
"Here," the second elf said, holding a cup to the first, "It will make him sleep, rest is the best thing for him right now."
"Don't do that," the first elf said, "Don't talk about him like he's not here. He is here and he can hear you and he can understand you. Just because he's confused doesn't mean he isn't your prince."
"Of course, my king, and I am sorry Prince Legolas."
Bewildered, Legolas looked back and forth between the two, "King?" he asked confused, "And I'm the prince?" Thoughts felt like knives and he blanched, but he tried to keep the thoughts straight in his head. "But then…" Was this his father? How could he not recognize his own father?
Thranduil nodded, "Do you remember?" he asked hopefully.
"No," Legolas answered, his voice tight. The pain was building again, perhaps whatever had been in the cup was not so effective as he had thought, "No. But how does someone forget something like that. I—" he raised his hands to his head. He felt the bandages beneath his hands and flinched sharply. Even his own light touch was agony.
He moaned before he could stop himself.
"Here," the King said gently, "Here, drink this," he offered the cup.
Legolas didn't care what was in the cup. If it could help, if there was even the slightest chance that it would make it even a little better. He reached for the cup and missed, his hand grasping at empty air.
This time, the king held the cup to his lips and Legolas drank gratefully. The cup was pulled away when it was only half gone as Legolas slipped away.
The noise woke him. An incessant buzzing that would not stop. He tried to ignore it, to stay asleep. Sleep was comfortable and wakefulness was pain, and he was not ready to face that yet.
A touch to his arm startled him and he jerked away, his eyes flying open and pain assaulting him.
His father was staring intently at him, worry and exhaustion etched into the lines on his face.
Ada, Legolas tried to say, but he heard nothing. Nothing but the buzzing. It didn't rise or fall in pitch or volume and it drowned out everything else.
Ada, Legolas tried again, and again nothing.
His father's lips moved, but no sound reached Legolas. He could only frown up at his father in confusion.
Ada, Ada, ADA! Legolas tried shouting, determined to hear something other than the buzzing. What if it didn't stop? What if it continued forever, drowning out the sounds of the forest, of the people he loved, of his own voice? What if it drove him mad because he couldn't hear anything and yet there was never silence?
He felt, but did not hear himself breathing in gasping gulps. Dizziness joined the pain in his head and darkness was creeping up the edges of his vision.
Strong hands grasped his own and pulled his attention back upward. Thranduil pulled Legolas' hands to his own chest, and Legolas felt and watched as his father took deep, steady breaths. The message was clear even if Legolas still couldn't hear anything. Breathe, breathe slowly…
He didn't look at his father's face, not wanting to see that he was missing more words. He could feel the vibrations in his father's chest and knew he was speaking, but couldn't look up to face that fact
Slowly, he gained control over his breathing. He focused on his father and matched each inhale, each exhale, only stuttering and losing the rhythm every few breaths now.
His father let go of one of his hands and reached out to cup the side of his face with infinite gentleness. His father's thumb wiped away a tear Legolas hadn't realized was there.
Reluctantly, he looked up and met his father's gaze. There was no fear there, only love and strength. He did not speak, only held his son's eyes with his own.
Ada, he gasped, and shuddered when still no sound reached him
The hand still holding his own against his father's chest tightened, drawing his attention back to the controlled breaths. He did not try to speak, only nodded, wincing at the pain the motion caused.
Legolas did not know how long they sat like that. The world buzzed, but Legolas concentrated on his father's grounding touch and on taking deep, even breaths. Slowly, everything began to fade. Legolas was not sure if he was falling asleep or losing consciousness, but he could do nothing to stop it, nothing to fight it.
"Legolas?" the voice was cautious but imploring, it held none of the command that Legolas associated with his father's voice.
"Ada?" Legolas answered.
"You can hear me?" Thranduil asked.
Legolas frowned and swallowed thickly before answering, "Yes. Was…Am I ill?"
"Injured, my son. Is the pain bad? The healers will get you something for it."
"Please," he murmured.
He closed his eyes and listened as his father quietly called for the healers and a pain draught before settling at his side again.
"Legolas? Are you still with me?" Thranduil asked.
"Mm-hmm," Legolas sighed.
Thranduil took his hand, and Legolas grasped it. He opened his eyes again, looking around the room without moving his head. "Ada," he asked softly, "Where is Nana?"
The hand holding his spasmed and Legolas looked to his father. "What's wrong?" he asked, alarmed, "Is she alright?"
Pain flitted across his father's face, raw and sharp. The king gathered himself, "Everything is fine. Everything is just fine."
Legolas was not reassured, and fought to sit up. Thranduil quickly moved to hold Legolas still, "Ada! What happened? Where is she?"
"Legolas," his father's voice was desperate, "Please calm down."
"No," Legolas struggled against him, "No, where is she?" His stomach plummeted, leaving fear in his wake. He found himself crying and he didn't know why. Anguish and grief crashed over him, confusing and familiar all at once.
"Legolas, Legolas, please," his father begged him, "Please be calm. She is away, she wants to be here with you, but she is away."
Legolas tried to sit up again and this time Thranduil did not restrain him, but helped him. Gathering his ailing son into his arms.
Legolas sagged in his father's grip, clinging to the older elf's tunic in a way he hadn't done in centuries.
Away, he though desperately, she was just away.
But there was no just about it. The memories came slowly and then all at once. Her death, the grief, the constant presence of her absence in his life. And he cried without being able to stop it. Cried from the loss that felt fresh all over again. Cried from the pain in his head that seemed like it had been there forever and would never leave. Cried from frustration at how helpless he felt.
Cried until he no longer had the strength to do anything but fade away.
Legolas woke, a headache throbbing between his temples.
"Legolas?" his father's voice was soft and gentle.
"Ada," he replied, "I'm sorry." He didn't know what he was sorry for, but the words seemed right. They were floating in his mind, waiting to be spoken.
"You don't need to apologize, you have been…unwell."
Legolas lay still in the bed. The pain was tolerable if he did not move. He considered his father. Exhaustion lined the king's face and he watched his son uncertainly. Legolas had rarely seen him like this.
"Is there anything I can do for you?" Thranduil asked.
"No, I am alright."
Thranduil scoffed.
They sat in silence for a while.
Eventually, Thranduil spoke, quietly and cautiously, "Are you still awake?"
"Aye."
"Do you think you could eat something?" Thranduil asked.
The thought of food turned his stomach and Legolas grimaced at the thought.
"It's alright," Thranduil reassured quickly, watching what little color there was drain from his son's face, "It can wait."
They were silent for a while. Legolas needed time to organize his thoughts and Thranduil gave it to him.
"Ada," he began, "How long have I been in the healing halls?"
"Nearly a week now."
"A week?!" he started, wincing when the movement ignited the pain he was carefully avoiding.
"Easy, Legolas, it's alright. Just stay still."
Legolas gathered himself, "A week?" he asked again, more calmly.
"Yes, the injury to your head was very severe. You nearly…" Thranduil trailed off, shook his head and then continued, "It doesn't matter now. The healers assure me you are recovering, but it will take time. Head injuries can be tricky. There may be setbacks and times when..." Thranduil trailed off when he saw that Legolas was overwhelmed.
Silence again, as Legolas considered this information. The longer statement taking its time to filter its way into something resembling understanding.
"Do you," Thranduil began hesitantly, "Do you remember much of your time here?"
Legolas considered his. Flashes reached him. Flashes of pain, confusion, and grief, but nothing concrete. No solid memories that he could rely on or recount in detail. "Only fragments."
"That's for the best, I think."
"It was bad then?" Legolas asked.
"You were," Thranduil hesitated, considering his words, "You were not yourself. It is not something I care to see again."
"I am sorry," the younger elf apologized once more.
"It wasn't your fault," Thranduil said simply.
"I think," Legolas swallowed a wave of nausea, "I think I am back again."
"I think so too," Thranduil said with a small smile, "I am glad for it."
"Ada," Legolas murmured, "I still do not feel well." The words were slurred and soft.
Thranduil knew it had to be bad for him to admit as much, "I know," he said softly, "Your recovery will take time. I'll go get you something for the pain."
"No," Legolas reached out his hand, and Thranduil took it without hesitation, "Please stay."
Thranduil settled himself again, knowing that the healers would check on them soon. "I will stay if you do," he offered imploringly.
Legolas met his father's eyes, saddened by the pain he saw there.
Thranduil gazed back at him, seeing a different pain in his son's eyes, but also concern and conviction.
"Always," Legolas answered, himself once more.
That's all for today! I apologize for any typos (I wrote this quickly, so I'm sure a few survived my review) and medical inaccuracies. I relied on google and experience with a friend who suffered from a TBI, but don't have any personal experience.
I have another, unrelated one shot that will be ready to go soon. If you have any story ideas or requests, feel free to let me know in a review or a message. I write quickly when a story idea strikes, but often struggle to come up with an idea!
Please take a moment to review! I always embrace constructive criticism and would love to know what you thought!
Stay safe and be well, Cool Breeze
