A/N: I love hearing from my readers! Constructive criticism is wonderful. Thank you for reading!
Moaning, Thranduil tried to roll over on something that, although soft and quite comfortable, did not feel like his normal bed. It didn't smell right either; his wife's soft, feminine scent strangely absent from her place against him. A rustle sounded beside him and his right eye popped open to behold a disheveled, bearded man. The Elvenking's left eye had some sort of soft fabric over it and he winced at the pain behind his eye, wondering what had happened, why his left side screeched in invisible, soundless pain.
"You must be careful," the wizard chirped. "You were injured quite badly and I was not sure you would make it until now."
He moaned again and found a wooden cup pressed gently to his lips as the wizened creature offered him some tea. Thranduil swallowed a small mouthful, then took several more sips. Finding his voice, he tied to sit up again as he spoke, only to be gently pushed back down. "Arabesque?" he inquired, longing for her to be the one by his side.
"She is fine. Safe inside the palace with nary a scratch on her. But you cannot be moved yet."
Another stream of pain shot through the Elvenking's left side, running from his foot all the way to the top of his head. The memories rushed back to him and he knew he suffered serious burns. "Radagast, is there anything you can do for…"
The wizard gave a sad look. "The burns will heal over time. The tea is mostly willow bark, which will ease your pain. You will always bear the scars. Your face got the worst of it, being unprotected."
"My…face?" He moaned again, trying to roll over.
"Yes. I am sorry. Once you are fully healed, I can give you some tricks to hide it. But it will always be there underneath." He administered more of the healing tea and tended his wounds again, applying herbal pastes and fresh cloths.
"My wife…I cannot face her…like this. Ever."
"Why? She loves you, does she not?"
"Yes. But her heart would be broken to know I am no longer physically her equal in beauty. Elves admired us for how well we matched each other, both in personality and in appearance. She is just as beautiful as one of the Valier, likely more so."
Radagast frowned. "If she truly loves you, your looks will not matter to her."
"Just stop!" Thranduil growled, all the various birds and animals who had been faithfully watching over him jumping and quaking at the display of anger.
"You must not upset yourself. Get more rest. We will talk when you recover."
Sighing, the Elf King obediently closed his good eye and rested again, sensing life as he knew it was over.
"I am the Queen! I am going and that is final. No arguments." Arabesque glared at Fairion as he watched her strap a sword to her waist.
"Then please allow me to accompany you, your Majesty."
"Fine. But remember, I am Elvenqueen of Greenwood, and my word is to be obeyed."
"Yes, your Majesty." He belted on his own weapons and trailed his obstinate queen as she stalked out the door, headed towards the gates. Try as he might, he could not stop her form taking her daily trips into the forest to search for the dragon who had consumed her precious husband. She determined to have her vengeance on the creature, to slay it with her own bare hands.
"Naneth, don't leave me!" a little voice called and a flaxen head buried itself into her abdomen, softly crying.
She put her arms around her young son, Legolas. "Shh, Ionnîn. Naneth must go and avenge your Ada."
"But what if something happens to you?" he sobbed.
"I will be fine. Lord Fairion and the guards do a fine job looking out for me. I will be back this evening," she promised, kissing his forehead and releasing him before he could protest further. She and Fairion walked out of the gates, the metal resounding behind them in a loud clang.