Hearing the scream, Elrond rushed down the corridor. Cold numbing fear was spreading through his stomach. What could that be? He pushed the door and ran inside the room where Elrohir was resting.
Elladan was sitting at the bed, holding his twin brother down so he would not harm his back. Elrohir was paler then before, the short struggle he gave his brother had obviously ate all little strength he had. The young elf was now sobbing uncontrollably, his body shaking, crystal tears running down his cheeks.
Elladan was at the break of crying himself, unable to watch his twin in such a miserable state, suffering both physically and mentally.
Elrond came closer, putting a hand on Elrohir's forehead, trying to transferee the reassurance by the touch.
"Calm down, my son." He said in a calm and soothing voice. "All will be well. You are going to be alright and so is Legolas. Nothing was your fault."
"He... sacrifice himself... I should be... the one... protecting." Elrohir managed through his sobs. His eyes were staring straight, not quiet seeing his brother or father.
"It was his choice, you fool." Elladan said, sounding hurt and angry. "Stop exerting yourself! Or you'd better take the knife and stab it into my heart, so I would not be watching my brother killing himself!"
Elrohir turned his head focusing the gaze on his brother. The two of them looked in each other's eyes for a long moment, searching, reading in each other's hearts. Then Elrohir slowly nodded, relaxing slightly.
"So how is he?"
"He's still unconscious." Elrond tell, carefully choosing the words. "But he's healing. I believe that king Thranduil is on his way here now."
The elven lord sighed. He knew that soon he'd have one more distressed elf to calm down. And Thranduil proved to have much fiercer temper.
"How are you feeling now, Elrohir?" Elrond asked taking a cup with a herbal tea from the table near the bed.
"I'm not in pain." The younger elf replied. "I'm just tired."
"Good. Drink this."
Elrohir was too exhausted to protest. So he just obeyed. His eyes were already closing, his body ready to fell in a deep healing sleep.
"I'm staying with him." Elladan said firmly, looking stubbornly at his father.
Elrond sighed in defeat. Not that he expected his sons to be willingly separated at the time like this.
"Call me if needed." He asked and left the room, deciding to have a little nap himself.
XXX
He could hardly understand where he was or what was going on around him. Legolas struggled to open his eyes, but the task was too hard at the time being. The eyelids seemed to be weighting a tone or so. The young elf tried to move next. That was a big mistake. The pain hit him from everywhere, extracting a low moan from his dry throat. His eyes opened, but the elf saw nothing, just a thick white-red mist. Two strong arms hold him down firmly but gently.
The memory of other hands, rough and cruel, came to his mind. He tried to struggle, whimpering in despair and pain.
"S... s-stop-p..." He croaked out, the physical pain from his injuries and the memories of an agony, which he had gone through, clouded his mind, blocking any coherent thought.
But soon Legolas felt the stream of elvish words soothing his ears, cutting the dark mist in his brain like a ray of sunshine. He slowly stopped his weak struggles, letting the light melodic voice to calm him. Soon his eyelids became too heavy to remain open and his mind sank into the black painless oblivion once more.
Glorfindel let go of the thin light body, covering Legolas with a blanket. Lonely tear slide down his face as he looked at the injured elfling. The elven lord lived long and remembered many battles, many dark times. But it was never easier to watch the hurt ones, especially such young. Burning rage started to raise inside of him, his eyes bright like two jewels in the sun. Glorfindel wanted nothing more then going into woods and personally killing each and every dark creature that had dared to come their. But he must make sure the children would be fine first. He had no kids of his own, but Elrond's twin sons and the young prince were as close to him. He was a seasoned warrior, taught to hide his emotions, but he wasn't taught not to feel.
Opening the door he called the servant.
"Ask lord Elrond to come here." He said shortly and sat at the chair again, sighing heavily. It seemed that this few days would be trying for the whole Imladris.
XXX
Days went by. Elrohir, with the help of his twin, was healing nicely. Some of his irrepressible sense of humor was already back. He managed small jokes with Elladan and even pulled a prank or two on a junior healer, who was sent to check on him. Elrond was reviled. Even though he knew that the whole episode wouldn't be forgotten that fast, he was thankful, that his sons were going to coup with it.
Legolas regained consciousness few times, but he still was too dizzy and in to much pain to remain awake for too long. His wounds were healing slowly, but they showed no signs of infection.
Things in Imladris were going up. Until one rainy morning. Elrond looked over the banisters of his balcony to see the source of the commotion in the main yard. He sighed, recognizing the tall broad figure of the Mirkwood king.
Thranduil dismounted swiftly, nodding impatiently to the bowing servants. For the first time the noble ruler was completely deaf to the official greetings. His sharp eyes quickly found Elrond's figure and he went straight to elven lord. Elrond knew better than delay the reunion between the father and son.
"I wish i could see you here under better circumstances." Elrond said grimly, motioning for Thranduil to follow him.
"Yes, my friend. Tell me, how does Elrohir fare?" He asked.
"He's almost healed." Elrond replied, somewhat surprised that Thranduil could think about something else then the wellbeing of his son.
They came near the room where Legolas was placed and Elrond opened the door carefully. Glorfindel was sitting at the chair with a book at his lap. He had replaced Elrond few hours ago after having a full night sleep himself.
"Greetings, king Thranduil." The elven lord stood up, bowing slightly.
"Thank you for looking after my son, lord Glorfindel."
"It was my pleasure. You have a great child, my lord."
"I know."
The transformation was shocking. Fierce and stoic king whose raging temper was known to each and every elf in Middle Earth, was gone, leaving a loving and caring parent instead. Thranduil kneeled beside the bed, taking his son's hand. Legolas was still pale, his torso heavily bandaged. His eyes were closed, lines of pain penetrating fare features.
"I'm very proud of you, my son." Thranduil told softly to his unconscious son. "More then I ever was."
Elrond smiled. He signaled to Glorfindel and both elves left the room. Now things would really start to get better.
Note: So, was it good or bad? Should I continue or stop here?