Hey guys! First of all, I'm really sorry – I messed up spectacularly, and I'm only three chapters in. See, I didn't intend to write about the contents of this chapter, and it was only after I'd written the next chapter that I realized I did want to write about it. So, I've had to slot this one in before the last, which means you've read the prologue and the 2nd chapter but not the 1st xD Sorry!
Next – a huge, huge thank you to everyone who had reviewed, followed and faved this fic! I really appreciate it :D
I don't quite know how people react after the loss of someone as special as a wife or a mother. All I can do is try to empathize and the rest is guesswork. Please don't be angry or annoyed if what I'm writing doesn't seem realistic...just tell me, and I will listen and do my best to correct it : )

Chapter 1

In the beautiful wilderness of the forest, a small herd of deer grazed contentedly under the shelter of the trees. They were blissfully unaware of the danger they were in. Thranduil, King of Eryn Galen, set his sights on the hart that led the group. He was hidden behind a tree some ten metres away from the striking creature and now, sensing a clean kill, he swiftly put an arrow to the string and drew. He silently mouthed a small prayer for the swift death of the beast he hunted. When he judged the time to be right he loosed the string. As he did so, he was suddenly overwhelmed by a piercing sense of loss. As if in slow motion, he saw his arrow strike the hart in the chest. The clean hit killed the animal instantly. As the hart crumpled to the ground, so did he. The myriad of emotions coursing through his brain and the sheer magnitude of the physical pain rocked him to the very core of his fea.

Before anything else could register, Thranduil was on his feet and sprinting for the caves. The pain dulled into a throbbing ache in his fea. He had to know what had happened to cause this pain. Deep down, he had an idea...but it was one he refused to acknowledge. He clenched his bow tight as he ran and his quiver rattled slightly against his back. Lostariel, Legolas, was repeated like a mantra in his mind. It was all he could do to refrain from bellowing it out loud as he ran. If anything had happened to his wife or son...He felt, rather than saw, the eyes of the patrols guarding the settlement of his people. As he arrived at the fringes of the community surrounding the caves he slowed to a walk and rearranged his face into what he hoped was a calm and collected expression. His people milled around the Green, a clearing where festivals and dances were held in fair weather. It was a general centre of activity in the community, where friends met, games were played and traders set up shop. The hand around his bow was white. He walked through the clearing, smiling and nodding to those who saw him and greeted him happily. He was well-known among his people and as such his people didn't make a fuss whenever they saw him, much to Thranduil's great relief. He quickly made his way through the few hundred metres from the Green to the Caves.
"My Lord!" The guards posted at the gates to the Caves saluted him as he approached. He recognised them both as members of his personal guard and acknowledged them with a quick, wavering smile.
"Beldoron, Glandur...you wouldn't happen to know where the Queen is?" He asked, trying to keep his voice from wavering. Both guards frowned and shook their heads.
"No, Lord." Beldoron said. "We have only just come on duty and taken up our posts." Before Thranduil could ask who was there before them, the guards faces changed and he turned around to follow their gaze. A company of his warriors emerged from the forest and. He was shocked to see the elfling curled up in Suiadan's arms. Behind him two warriors bore a litter on which lay a shrouded body. In that moment, it seemed as though the world stood still. The dull pain suddenly intensified and he realized he felt sick.
"Ada!" Legolas' clear, high voice rang out. Thranduil heard such fear in his child's normally happy tone. He all but sprinted the few steps to snatch his elfling from the warrior and clutch him tightly to his chest. The elfling buried his head in Thranduil's shoulder and sobbed.
"Nana...Nana..." In that moment, he was absorbed in the elfling's grief and distress. Paternal instinct immediately kicked in and he comforted his son automatically, whispering anything his mind could summon that might reassure him.
"Shhh, tithen Las, it's okay. It's all going to be okay. I promise." He almost didn't notice Suiadan approaching him carefully.
"My Lord...I'm sorry." The words barely registered. "There were reports of spiders and we went to investigate." He heard them as though from a great distance or as if he was listening through a wall. He noted vaguely that Legolas had stopped crying. "We killed the spiders, but, my Lord, the Queen..." Thranduil slowly shook his head. No. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes and threatened to spill. Ignoring the rest of what Suiadan was saying, he almost stumbled to the litter and with his free hand gently, ever so gently, lifted the cloak. His wife was beautiful. Were she not so starkly white, she could have passed as being in a deep sleep. She looked so peaceful and contented. He knew then, with absolute anguish and despair, that the bond he shared with his beloved wife was gone and the void it left was the source of the unbearable pain.

Thranduil was devastated. He had a moment of sheer panic when he couldn't figure out what to do or how he was going to live, before Legolas, who had shifted in his arms, caught sight of his mothers face and, with a yelp, shoved his head even further into his shoulder. Without thinking Thranduil raised a hand and stroked the elfling's flaxen hair gently, his eyes not once leaving Lostariel's ashen face. Then he realized where they were standing and straightened up. It would not do for all of his people to see their king thus.
"Go...go inside...Arandur will tell you what to do." He didn't trust himself to speak any further or accompany them inside. With a last, tearful glance at his wife, he turned around and half-ran into the keep, not stopping until he reached his private rooms. He all but collapsed into his favourite armchair. Legolas was silent in his arms and had barely moved all the time his adar was walking.
"Legolas?" Thranduil said softly, shifting his arms and brushing away some of the elfling's hair. Slowly he raised his head and Thranduil caught a glimpse of tiny fists, one around Mellon and the other around his tunic, both clenched so hard the knuckles where white. He tried to detach them to no avail. The elfling surprised him by speaking, though his words were muffled by Mellon and Thranduil's chest.
"Ada? I left my archers in the forest. I'm really sorry!" The elfling began to cry again and after a moment, Thranduil realized tears were sliding down his cheeks too. "It's okay, baby. Don't worry. You'll get new ones." He crooned, hugging the boy and rocking slightly. It did nothing to alleviate the boy's tears. "I know...I know."

XXXXXXX

They stayed like that for the half hour or so, and Thranduil lost track of time. Galion interrupted them to offer his condolences and to await orders but Thranduil sharply ordered him to go to Arandur. Legolas gradually distanced himself from his adar, step by step. The elfling tentatively took up the toy horses lying scattered on the floor and began to play. There was a ghost of a smile on the king's face as he watched. Whilst Legolas was engaged in his game, Arandur knocked the door and entered quietly.
"Thranduil, I...I'm sorry." He said nothing more as he pulled the king he had known as an elfling into an embrace. Not since his adar's death in Mordor had he been hugged by anyone save his wife and child. Indeed, he had gone a long way to avoid contact with others, shutting off those of his friend he could, those who dwelled elsewhere especially. His cousin, Celeborn, and Elrond of Imladris were friends of his at one time yet he could not remember the last time he saw either of them. Arandur and Suiadan were very good friends of his too, having known him and his adar since before Menegroth was destroyed, but he become adept at pushing them ever further into their own work to distract them from him. Arandur pulled away and smiled at him kindly. "I'll take care of business today, and tomorrow...however long you need. I'm sure I can cope and anything I can't do I'll prioritize and either send to you or dismiss until your return." Thranduil nodded swiftly.
"Set up extra patrols around the borders of the residences, if you haven't already. I want those spiders hunted down and butchered. They are bold indeed to venture so close to this settlement; they must be taught to fear us again. Make sure everyone attends the council meeting tomorrow morning, Arandur, and suspend petitions until further notice?" The older elf nodded briskly and made for the door. He hesitated at the room's threshold.
"You will get through this, Thranduil. You and Legolas, both." The words seemed matter-of-fact but both elves knew that Arandur was attempting to convince himself. Then he left, and Thranduil was left alone with Legolas. The elfling was curled up in his nana's chair, galloping a horse up and down its arm. He was about to sit down when his son spoke.
"Ada! Play with me!" He said imperiously, and held out one of his wooden figures. Thranduil smiled and took the toy gently, proceeding to play with the boy. Lostariel and he had established that Legolas adored horses at a very young age. Thranduil had carved three of the ones they now played with himself. He remembered how happy Legolas had been when he had gotten them for his birthday, and how happy his joy had made Lostariel. The memory brought back the anguish he had just begun to squash. "Ada?" Legolas shook his sleeve firmly. Thranduil smiled, brushing away his tears, and continued to play.

XXXXXXX

When time came for the elfling to sleep, Thranduil expected a challenge and he was right. Legolas was adamant he was staying awake and had quickly taken to shouting and crying every time Thranduil went to tuck him in, once he realized it gained him the desired effect of staying up. This went on for a couple of hours or so, with Thranduil alternating between telling the elfling stories, trying to put him to bed and attempting to find out just why he didn't want to sleep. He ascertained that Legolas was afraid of nightmares and the spiders he had seen. Thranduil was furious that his elfling had been exposed to such horrors, especially at such a tender age. It got to the point where both of them were more than ready for a good night's sleep. At nigh on midnight, exhausted as he was, Legolas could not cry anymore. He just sat there, half-awake, lingering on the borders of reality and death-filled nightmares. Eventually he lay down and stared at the ceiling. His adar took this as a good sign.
"Legolas?"
"Ada, I don't want to be afraid." The elfling said with a small voice, and his bottom lip trembled. Thranduil gave him what he hoped was an encouraging smile.
"You won't be, little leaf. Come, lie with me. We'll sleep together tonight, hmm?" The elfling had yet to break his habit of waking up in the night and climbing into bed with his parents. Thranduil saw no harm in simply letting the elfling stay with him...all things considered. Adar and elfling curled up together and, after a long while, the elfling fell into a troubled sleep. Once he had done so Thranduil crumbled. In sleep, the elfling didn't need him as he had done during the day. In the dark of the night he was alone; there was no one left to be strong for. What do I do now? He was lost. Thranduil, King of Eryn Galen, buried his head in the pillows and wept.