2016, 10th of March

Hello my loyal readers!

So sorry for lack of update but I was at a conference yesterday and couldn't get to the internet so yeah, there's that. I wanted to upload this today and fast while I worked so now I didn't have time to read it again...I hope it's still readable and doesn't have that many errors.

This one's just the same length as the others (I have no idea how I do that, honestly), but it's gonna be even more dramatic I think. So watch out for that xD.

Also thank you sooo much for all the feedback. In relativity to the chapters I uploaded, this is my most reviewed fanfic right now and I'm so happy :3. Though I'm wondering if it's because of the fandom or if it's because I'm actually getting better (which'd be great!). If any of you read any of my old stuff, please let me know what you think is the case or if the Tolkien fandom is just really cool and generous with comments :3 I'd love to know! big hugs to you all!

Now, please enjoy!

If my blood wasn't spilled tonight

Chapter 4

Tauriel would have liked to say goodbye to the dwarves. Or at least to Kili. She wanted to go to the funeral, she wanted to give honor to the men and dwarves that had died in this battle but Thranduil wouldn't hear any of it. In fact, he didn't even speak to her all the way back to the forest. She had thought about running away again then. However, just one look over to Legolas let all her reasons to stay crash into her all at once and she nodded, understanding. This whole time, she felt like cowering in a corner and crying. It was normally not her style to cry her eyes out. She was strong willed and passionate, yes. But she hadn't cried for centuries now. Even thinking about her parents didn't make her that sad anymore. Her mind was all work, work, work. Fight the darkness, safe the forest, tell Thranduil to not be so hard headed anymore, be by Legolas' side- and that was the thing. She wanted to be by his side right now but apparently, Thranduil had forbidden it. She wasn't allowed inside the healing tent anymore (after being thrown out shortly after sitting down) except for business and sitting at her friend's side was not part of that business. So she made it her 'business' to bring in all the elves that were still alive and make them comfortable. In the meantime, she would steal glances at Legolas and his condition worried her more and more. They said he was stabilized and ready to move but to her, it was still like she was ripped apart just looking at him. His skin was pale, his forehead glistering, the rise and fall of his chest was unsteady and flat. There was still blood caked on the inside of his bandage as if the wound hadn't quite stopped bleeding yet, stubbornly insisting on bringing the ellon further pain. The gash on his forehead was also covered in bandages so she couldn't see his full face and his normally artfully braided hair was lying around him in an unruly state she had never seen it in in her entire life. Her fingers longed to stroke through them, to braid them herself like she had done multiple times before. She wanted to sit with him, be with him, to tell him how sorry she was for all of this, for him being hurt like this, for him being so close to death it made the king this desperate. So every time her gaze fell upon him and his condition was not better, her heart reached out to him and pleaded, begged for him to wake, to get well, to just open his gorgeous eyes.

But of course, it didn't happen that way.

The wounded were transported on the carriages they had formerly transported the supplies for the people of Dale on. It was a form of irony Tauriel really wasn't ready to laugh at. Legolas lay between two soldiers with a wounded and a broken leg that insisted they would try and walk, they were getting better, honest. Tauriel had heard them argue with the healers on previous occasions, telling them that Legolas needed more care than they did, that the healers should take care of their prince instead of them. However, Merilthel wouldn't let them go and since they were damn stubborn, she instructed them how they could help take care of the prince from their position next to him without risking to lose their legs in the process. Tauriel was glad these two were there. She knew them from her guard and they were very loyal and kind. One of them was very young, the other rather stern and wise. Both of them however, were glad to have been given an important thing to do while uselessly riding on that carriage.

So Tauriel, while they traveled, kept relatively close to the carriage, paying as close attention to it as she could. She herself had been under some care of the healers. She hadn't allowed the young healer long, not even to clean herself from the filth of battle, just a bit of energy given back to her because the healer insisted. So when they left a few hours later, Tauriel was still in her battle gear, still with the clothes on she had worn on Raven Hill. This is how she arrived back in her home; Torn, slightly wounded, exhausted and in general completely miserable. Her thoughts were constantly wandering back and forth between Erebor, Laketown, how its citizens survived this war and Legolas, wounded and maybe dying in the healing halls.

The closer they had gotten to the forest, the worse Legolas looked. It had been as if you watched the darkness creep inside of him as they walked beneath the foul tree branches. As if the forest itself suddenly turned against its own prince and when they finally reached the walls of the castle, the healers had been busy just keeping Legolas alive. A whisper of panic had spread through all their army when they noticed what the fuss was about. Not just Thranduil would be devastated if Legolas died. No, not even close. Even though he was trying at being as cold and controlled as his father, Legolas never quite managed it. The kindness and compassion in him was known throughout all of their kingdom and they all knew that if this light inside their prince would fade, so would all that was left of their king. They never spoke about it, of course. But they all knew It, deep down.

Tauriel, even though she was still in her dirty clothes and all, ran after the healers, demanding to be let through to the healing halls. She could feel that something was wrong, she needed to be there…

"You can't go inside."

"I command you to let me through, Calphon." She stood face to face with the guard in front of her. She was not going to be disgraced just because she tried to be compassionate. Even if Thranduil had a fallout with her that didn't mean the rest of the kingdom had…right?

"You are not my captain anymore." He said but his eyes looked nervous under his helmet, as if he didn't quite agree but still had to. "Besides, the king himself commanded the healers be left alone with the prince in the private healing quarters. He told us to let nobody in…especially you."

Tauriel thought about just running between the two guards blocking her way. The feeling in her gut told her that Legolas was not far away from fading and her stomach turned just thinking about it. She wanted to push these men aside and be with him, she wanted to be the one to pull him back to reality, to ground him if she could.

But she didn't.

All she did was take a deep breath and nod slowly.

"Is the king with him?" she asked. If she herself wasn't allowed inside then his father might be the only one able to get through to Legolas if the worst happened.

"Yes, he is." The guard nodded shortly. Tauriel, lips pressed together in dismay and fists by her side, turned around.

"I'll leave you to it then." She concluded and slowly made her way to her chambers.

Inside the healing halls, hell had broken loose. Legolas was put in a single bed in a single room that was normally empty since it was reserved for intensive care of one patient and...well, elves normally don't get sick. The healing halls are rarely visited and if they are, it's mostly a short visit that can later be cured at home. But these days, with the sickness spreading in the forest and the constant spider attacks paired with orcs, injury wasn't that uncommon any longer. This was why they even had this many healers. Thranduil wasn't sure if other elven realms required as many, since the others still had magical protection from the darkness. Sometimes he indeed envied them for it.

He also wondered, while the healers were whispering between themselves in worried, hushed voices, if Legolas would be in this condition were the forest not in this state. The king had seen the shadow affecting his son, had seen that the poison inside him seemed to make him vulnerable to it. The king had the burning desire to go out there and kill every single spider and orc roaming the forest, making it sick.

In this very moment though, the king of Mirkwood could do nothing but stand idly by while the men and women under his command tried to tend to his son in the best way they could. He had told the guards to not let anybody in. Especially Tauriel.

Oh, Tauriel. How he did not want to think about her right now. He did not know if he should blame her for his son's condition. In fact, he didn't really know what even happened. But it was enough that Legolas was just at Ravenhill because he was siding with Tauriel when his father clearly showed how displeased he was with her. It was enough that the prince had chosen her over his father, in that moment and that in Legolas' eyes he had seen no understanding for the king's own reaction. It was enough that when Tauriel fled the kingdom despite his orders, Legolas went after her. It was enough that despite his warnings about it, Tauriel had simply let him, apparently even encouraged him to. So from his perspective, from where he was standing and from the spot in the room where he could hear his son's pain filled moans, he just couldn't help but blame her the most. Her affectionate thoughts for this dwarf had made this all possible and he was therefore not going to allow her here when she was the one making it happen in the first place.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity even to the elven king, the healers stepped away from Legolas again. His head healer reported to him, said that they had stabilized him into a healing sleep again and that they were still not sure of his state and what the poison was and if the head injury was grave, that they had to test it when –if—he awoke and they asked if Tranduil had noticed anything when he found him, if he had been conscious. But the king just shook his head, lips pressed together in dismay. He hadn't really let Legolas even be awake while he had found him. He'd put him right into a painless sleep and not thought about the gash on his forehead, the wound on his chest being far worse in that situation.

"If you can't do anything further I'd like to be alone with my son." Thranduil finally spoke up. It had become quiet in the room since they were awaiting his orders. His voice was more of a whisper and he sounded defeated. The healers tried not to shoot him sympathetic glances and bowed quickly, following his words by leaving the room swiftly.

Slowly, the king wandered over to the bed. He sat down in one of the chairs he had to drag to the bedside and looked at his son for quite some time, taking everything in. He looked like he had when they left Dale, just even worse for wear. His face had a sickly pallor, his eyes showed a deep shadow under them as if he hadn't gotten any rest in at least two weeks and he had an expression of pain on his face, not looking relaxed at all while in the land of dreams.

After a few seconds, Thranduil couldn't take it any longer. The room was finally empty, he was alone with a hurt, possibly dying Legolas and he just couldn't bear to hold his cold composure anymore.

So right then and there, King Thranduil of Mirkwood crumbled.

Nothing had hurt him like this in a very long time. Ever since the death of his wife he had not allowed himself these feelings of grief to boil to the surface of his thoughts. Had he allowed them inside his head he might have faded right where he found her body. The thoughts had consumed him, had the journey home blur into nothing and they were only interrupted when their son, her son, ran into his arms again. Legolas was asking what happened, he saw his Daddy's face in scars and he asked where Mommy was and just for the sake of this little elfling, Thranduil held on. He told him Mommy couldn't come home any longer, held him when he cried, tried not to cry alongside him. But he didn't fade, not like he thought he would right then on the battlefield. It was his little leaf that kept him living. It was Legolas that kept him alive, made him go through the movements every morning, kept him in the land of the living by simply existing, by simply still feeling and expressing so much joy and energy that Thranduil could hardly believe it some days. One defining moment he had realized how much Legolas was like his mother and it had destroyed him as well as healed part of him. Legolas shared her more gentle but beautiful face, the energy he displayed day by day and most of all, he shared his mother's light. He had heart and warmth inside him, boiling to the surface almost every day. Thranduil saw his son interacting with other people in the kingdom and especially as a child he had been a delight. A ray of sunshine as often described. If he asked anyone for their honest opinion, the king was sure that they would answer that Legolas had held the kingdom together then, not him. Not him, the grief stricken king who could barely leave his chambers any longer. No, not him. Legolas.

Even now, Thranduil felt the dread enter his kingdom as the news of Legolas' condition spread. He may be their leader, he may be the kindom's guide but if he was honest with himself he knew that Legolas, Legolas was the heart of it.

The king was aware that he had been distant. Of course he was. But for him, it had been easier. It was easier to lock the feelings away instead of embracing them. It had been easier to keep Legolas, who was boiling with joy and energy and so much like his mother, outside of the cage he built for himself, the cage that he considered his personal punishment. Punishment for failing his son, punishment for failing his kingdom, punishment for not being able to keep the love of his life safe and by his side. It wasn't long after the light of his life had diminished that the light of the forest swiftly followed. It wasn't long after that Legolas was no longer able to play in the forest freely anymore. The little prince had often left the palace back then, Thranduil remembered fondly. He and Tauriel had already been close friends then, just innocent playmates making their way to explore the kingdom they lived in. He recalled Tauriel to be one of the reasons Legolas had left his own little shell he had built after his mother's death. He remembered them hand in hand, running along the trees and laughing…

But he couldn't dwell there right now, the memories weren't changing anything. They couldn't help his son, his precious ion-nin right now. Thranduil's expression slipped into one of deep and utter worry and his hand gently ghosted over his son's cheek, then over his furrowed brow. From deep inside his memory, the king recalled a lullaby that Legolas was sung by his mother when he was little. He had not thought about things like this in a long, long time.

Something drove him to sing it out loud. The gentle and sad melody filled the sparse room, sounding off the walls and drifting down the hallway of the healing halls. The king kept stroking his son's face, the other hand gently gripping his. The song sounded of the forest, of leaves in the wind, flowers in the breeze and the smell of grass in the air. Slowly, he felt Legolas' face relax under his touch, heard his moans of pain ease into quieter breathing.

And despite the situation and despite the lonely tear streaming down his pale cheek, Thanduil Oropherion smiled.

In her chambers, Tauriel came to a halt as soon as she entered the door. Her eyes took in the mess that was her room. She remembered the chaos that day, when she left for Laketown. She recalled her haste and that was what made her stop in her tracks.

Right now, her behavior seemed so useless and illogical. Had that really been her? So eager to get out of the forest, so eager to help the dwarfs, eager to leave her life in Mirkwood behind. Right now she could picture herself going with Kili, alive, to his kingdom, getting to know his father, being with him. She did not know if it had been love that blossomed between them. Maybe the king was right and she had had no idea what it meant. Because right now, she was not hollow and empty because of Kili's death. No, she was numb and extinguished because of what she had just witnessed happening to the prince of Mirkwood, of this kingdom she called her home for so many centuries. Of course the acquaintance of one creature other than elves was exciting and new and certainly not something to look down upon. She would miss Kili in her heart, always. The way he was so open and carefree and the way he carried himself despite his height and the state of his own kingdom, lost and almost forgotten.

A sigh escaped her lips and she slowly walked over to a piece of clothing on the floor. She picked it up and tossed it over a chair, the same fate awaited several other pieces a few seconds later. Her heart wasn't really in it if she was honest but it kept her hands busy and she could not think about what would happen the second when they were not. But the moment came quicker than she thought, when the room was perfectly organized and her bed was made, the windows opened for a fresh breeze and the hairs on her arm created little hills on her skin from the chilling winter air. Still, Tauriel left the window open, viewing the chill as a way to keep her alert and awake, even if her body wanted to sink down on the bed so very much. Her muscles ached from the battle and she became aware of the wounds she had succumbed to herself when falling down those stairs and fighting Bolg. The blue spots on her chest were rubbed with a little ointment she found in one of her cupboards and one or two bandages were applied but soon, she paused at the sight of the blood on her hands. It wasn't on her fingertips any longer, no. That must have gone away while she was busy helping out the other healers. But on the back of her hands, there was still something left, crusts of red substance caked to her skin and she peeled them away with frustration entering her expression and she tried hard not to let the wetness enter her emerald eyes. Her lips pressed together when one spot was particularly stubborn and she tried not to think about where this blood came from. Her feet automatically dragged her over to the little basin she had and she poured some water into it from a pitcher, furiously rubbing on her hands. By now she was dressed in some comfortable clothes pulled over her battered torso. But until now, her face had not dared look at her reflection.

Right now, after successfully ridding her hands of the blood, her eyes automatically looked up into the mirror above the sink.

That was her mistake.

Tauriel froze at the sight. It wasn't her hair that was in disarray that stopped her or the dirt all over her. It wasn't even the little cut on one of her cheeks that puzzled her and made her stop in her tracks. No, it was the blood on her other cheek that made her stop. It was the unharmed one without the cut and it wasn't her own blood. There was a print there and it roughly contoured the shape of a hand.

Suddenly, everything came rushing back. All the details she had tried to burry deep down came to her mind. The way Legolas spoke to her softly while she tried to apply pressure to his chest. The way the blood was just everywhere and the panic that streamed through her like poison. And finally, the way he cupped her cheek with his own hand, covered in his own blood but still wanting to comfort her, to touch her.

Her knees gave in under her and she sunk to the floor, back rubbing against her cupboard under the sink. A heartbroken sob escaped her lips and she completely drew into herself, knees to her chest, arms slung around herself and the tears flew freely down her cheeks, some of them through the cracked blood that had broken the dams. Her own hand touched the offending surface and she lightly touched the spot, only inducing a fresh round of tears.

She just couldn't take it in any longer. All the sorrow of this day only crushed down on her completely and Tauriel sobbed like she hadn't ever since she was a little child that lost her parents in an orc raid.

Okay I admit, that was pretty depressing. BUT like we all know, there can't be any uptimes if there aren't downtimes so...these are the downtimes. I loved to write the scene with Thranduil, I love their father-son relationship. And you probably all forgot about the handprint Legolas left but jup, it's still there and I bet if you see your reflection for the first time after that battle, especially with that handprint, it's gonna be traumatizing.

I hope you liked it! Please tell me if you did :)

What do you think Tauriel and Thranduil could do to actually come to terms with each other? I have decided against a trial I think...there may be one later for formalities but for now i think that would be overdoing it, especially with Legolas in that condition. What do you think?

Thanks for reading! Please leave your opinion, I'd really love to hear it! Have a nice weekend :3