Author's Note: I suppose this is where things begin to angle in the direction of slashy-ness. So just a bit of warning if you're not into that. And to "Guest" thank you. I'm glad you liked it.
"Dragon!" was the word that left from Himelon's lips as he ran toward the other elves motioning frantically for them to run. As Thranduil pulled at his men and Himelon's voice let the words sink in the Silvan elves ran. They too forsook their enemy and task in favor of not being burned alive. No sooner had they begun to move that the roar of the dragon rang out and the all consuming flame followed. The dragon was large and green. Its eyes shone with the fire that brewed in its belly and would have been considered, had the circumstances been different, very beautiful. Despite its magnificence the dragon was death on wings. Elves stood strong with shields, blades, and bow and arrow. They tried to fight the beast and protect their kin and King but their efforts were for naught. The dragon struck them down with every swipe of its claws and tail and with every bite and breath of its fire.
Thranduil continued to push against his people in efforts of biding his kin flee. As he made his way to the forefront of the dragon related carnage to pull back the elves who still stood strong the starlight haired King found himself coming face to face with the creature responsible for the scorching flames that consumed his friends and soldiers. The dragon stood over him and pulled its maw back into a terrifying snarling grin of white teeth. It did not speak nor did it regard Thranduil as anything more than a nuisance. It had not come to kill for food nor hunt for treasures. The dragon had come to revel in the violence and carnage that their battle with the orcs had begun. It's emerald mouth opened and the glowing golden fire in its gut grew ever brighter as it threatened to spew forth and engulf the starlight haired elf King in fire. Around him Thranduil was aware of elves with shields trying to rush to his aid yet he knew they would not make it in time. Gripping his sword tighter Thranduil prepared for the scorching agony that would no doubt lead to his death.
As the dragon reared back its head and Thranduil locked his icy blue eyes on the source of the oncoming inferno the starlight haired elf felt something make contact with his left side. It was soft and warm yet firm. As he jerked his head to see what it was everything moved in slow motion to him. Thranduil's feet left the ground and his whole body jerked right. As he flew through the air he saw standing where he had been Himelon. The raven haired elf had slammed into Thranduil's left side as hard as he could to shove him out of the way of the oncoming dragon fire. There was no time for Thranduil to yell or even comprehend sound before Himelon was engulfed in dragon fire. For a moment their eyes had met and Thranduil had seen sorrow and love shining there. As the starlight haired King hit the snow covered ground his head was snapped back and all he saw was sky. All he heard were the heart wrenching screams of the raven haired male as the flames engulfed his skin. Thranduil launched to his feet, unable to see straight, and rushed forward to where Himelon had been. He was quickly grabbed by a pair of strong hands and shoved behind a wall of bodies. The heat of the dragon's fire licked at his exposed skin as the group of elves shielding him moved away from the blaze as quickly as possible. Everything blurred. The screams of the dying, the roar of the dragon, and the stench of the dead. He saw his people shielding him and each other. He saw elves being impaled or burned by the dragon. And ultimately he saw the dragon flying away. He had been fading in and out of consciousness from the fall when Himelon had pushed him out of the way but even though his vision was not focused he pushed passed the elves trying to make certain he was unharmed. His eyes scanned the burnt ground for something, anything, that could be the raven haired elf. As he stumbled through the burnt landscape shaking off elf after elf who tried to restrain him Thranduil felt a weak hand grip his ankle. Thranduil spun to see who had grabbed him and in an instant his vision cleared. Gripping his ankle with bloody fingers was Himelon. His left side was thoroughly mangled and burned while his right was horrifically marred with injury from dragon's claws. And yet Thranduil knew it was the raven haired elf. He didn't know how he knew. He just knew.
In one swift movement Thranduil scooped up what was left of the raven haired elf. He didn't care for the blood or protests of his kin. All Thranduil could think of was getting Himelon to Imladris. He could not loose him. Even if it killed him Thranduil was going to find a way to save Himelon. As he ran Thranduil's elk, which was fortunately unharmed, found its way to him and they rode hard and fast. The rest of the surviving elves, although they did not understand their King's frantic behavior, followed suit. They gathered up the injured and rode as quickly as they could West to Imladris. They rode day and night and again and again Thranduil prayed to whomever would listen. He pleaded with every god he could think of to just save the raven haired elf laying in his arms. In the moment when he had hit the ground and Himelon had been engulfed in dragon fire in his place, when their eyes had met Thranduil had known one thing from his lost memories. He had know that look in Himelon's eyes.
He had known the love he saw there to be more than just the love of a subject for his King. It was a love that possessed Himelon to throw himself into the dragon's inferno when he could have run and saved himself. Thranduil would not let him die for he also felt the deep pang and ache of losing one whom he too loved. For so long he had not understood why Himelon would not leave his mind. Why he had been tormented with nightmares and memories for so long. And now he understood. He cared for the raven haired elf in a way he had not cared for anyone else. And now as he rode to Imladris to plead for the aid of Lord Elrond he felt he would sooner give up his own life than let Himelon die.
Thranduil had not known when he had crossed the boarder into Elrond's lands. He had been too focused on telling Himelon not to die and searching for any signs of life in the burnt and mangled body to notice. Yet when he had felt his elk stop and seen that he had just crossed the main gates of Imladris and, subsequently, drawn the attention of everyone there he wasted no time.
"Where is Elrond?" the question had come as more of a paniced demand as Thranduil had swung down from the elk, all the while being careful not to drop the elf in his arms, "We need help now!" Yet again he had sounded less like a King and more like a desperate individual at the end of his options. He didn't care. The crowd parted and grimaced at the sight of the elf in his arms and the trail of ash stained blood that was left in Thranduil's wake as one of Elrond's sons led him to the main healing chambers caused many of them to look away.
Elrond had been shocked and disgusted when he had burst frantically into the healing chambers. When word had reached him that Thranduil and many of his warriors were in Imladris seeking healing Elrond had dropped everything and rushed to the chamber Thranduil was in. He had been anticipating the starlight haired male to be the one injured. What he had not been expecting was the stomach churning scent of burned flesh and blood and to see Thranduil kneeling at the bedside of an unrecognizable creature cradling its head and weeping.
"Thranduil," Elrond began as he stifled the urge to look away and placed a hand on the starlight haired King's shoulder, "Are you hurt?" The concern in Elrond's eyes had been true. He was worried if Thranduil, his friend, was injured but more so he needed to see how Thranduil would respond to him. He needed to see if the other male was able to comprehend his words and respond accordingly.
"You have to save him!" the shout had broken free from the Elven King's lips no sooner than Elrond's words had ended. With tears in his eyes and ash and blood covering his face he had turned and taken a tight hold of Elrond's shoulder practically shoving him toward the bed. That was not the answer Elrond had been hoping for. Nodding and giving a weak smile he had reassured Thranduil that he would do what he could and ushered him off to another healer's room. Thranduil himself was in need of healing. Some physical but mostly mental. Sighing Elrond turned back to the elf laying in the bed in front of him. He checked for a pulse expecting there to be none and immediately jumped into action the moment he felt the weak heart beat. He grabbed herbs and charms and starlight. As promised he would do everything he could to save the individual Thranduil had so frantically pleaded with him to heal. Elrond could not tell who he was healing because the damage was too disfiguring when he began but he knew they were important the his king and friend. That was more than enough reason for him to pour every single ounce of his skill as a healer into this one elf.