*** just wanted to say a quick thanks to everyone who took the time to review (somehow this site doesn't have an option to answer directly so just doing it here), I'm so glad you're enjoying this story, makes my day and please continue to let me know what you think :) ***
Legolas remained in the healing wards for a week after the surgery. By that time, the fever and infection had mostly died down, and the healers, apart from giving him the occasional dose of healing energy, could not do very much for him. The only person who could do anything at all seemed to be the king. Ever since he had been brought back, in more ways than one, Legolas had been almost fixated on his father; he never complained or tried to stop him from leaving but his suffering in Thranduil's absence was painfully obvious.
Since he barely slept, rested, ate, spoke or did anything at all without the presence of his father, but the king's busy schedule did not allow him to spend all his time at his son's bedside, it was arranged for his bed to be carried to the king's chambers. All of his rooms overlooked the halls where his throne stood, and since much of his time was divided between there and his private study, Legolas' bed was placed in a room between the two. Through the windows next to his bed, he could see the throne halls, and his father, if he sat up enough; through the next door was the king's study. Thranduil took to leaving the connecting door open while receiving, and when he worked independently, he mostly took whatever papers he needed into the connecting room so he could be with his son. At night, as he had every night since Legolas' return, he climbed into the bed behind his son, the only position that currently allowed him to hold him close, so he could sleep. Legolas seemed unable to take any rest otherwise.
Ten days after the surgery, Legolas still slept with his eyes closed, his sleep often interrupted by nightmares that had him clinging to his father in panic and grief. Thranduil had not spent anywhere near this much time with Legolas in yéni, their interactions often being limited to official capacity due to time constraints and maybe the occasional shared meal between patrols. Usually Legolas' duties as captain left him with even less free time than Thranduil. This was not the first time Legolas' being laid up with injuries had brought them closer together and bought them more time as a family, but it was by far the most intense. It was far from the first time he had feared for his son's life, but usually, once it was clear he would pull through, his recovery times were rather short and hurried. He was used to Legolas impatiently insisting on returning to his own rooms when he was just barely able, disregarding the advice of healers and bolting back to his duties, often before he was completely well. And as much as Thranduil enjoyed the chance to spend time with his son, he was also deeply worried. Legolas' dependance on him was far from healthy. But, he reasoned with himself, it was still preferable to a complete withdrawal. He knew he needed to give him time to heal. And Thranduil swore to be there for him in whatever way he needed.
Legolas had yet to speak about what had happened during the patrol. The bodies of the deceased had been returned to their families, preparations for their memorials under way. Now that Legolas' immediate illness had abated, Thranduil knew he had no excuse to keep him from being questioned. So a few days after the healers had brought him to his private quarters, Thranduil arranged for an official interrogation to be held, knowing Legolas' deeply ingrained discipline and dutifulness would force him into compliance whether he was ready to speak of it or not. Thranduil had felt guilty, like he was abusing his power, but it was not just that he wanted to know, but that he, as king, needed to know. He owed an explanation to the families of the deceased warriors; he could not disregard their right to this information for the sake of his son. He had managed to convince his council members that Legolas would have to be interrogated in his room, and would not be able to attend the court-martial. He had also convinced them that Beleghîr, his guard's commander and Legolas' superior, was to remain absent from this session. The less involved the attending elves were in any military activities, the better, he reasoned. That was the best he could do.
"We were overwhelmed", Legolas stated blankly, upon questioning. "A legion of orcs, near a hundred in number, leading a pack of mountain trolls they had captured. They were heading farther south; where exactly I cannot say. But they were very purposeful, acting on some command. We managed to hide from them as they crossed through our lands, but we decided to follow them –" He swallowed and looked down as he corrected himself. "I decided to follow them."
"As is your duty as captain", Thranduil said, his clipped tone not betraying the surge of compassion he felt at his son's obvious distress. Avornion, his second in command, was present in Legolas' temporary bedchamber, as well as several other advisors. He would treat his son as he would any other warrior during an official inquiry. "Continue."
Legolas cleared his throat. "Silef, Lindhel and I tailed them in the trees. The others followed at a distance with the horses. As we got closer to the mountains, some of the trees began to grow strange. Touched by darkness. We did not realize how strongly until – we were betrayed." He paused for a moment, but then continued. "The orcs were resting when the branch Lindhel was standing on broke clean off. She fell and – we were discovered. The orcs took her and Silef and I started shooting." Here he looked down, and ceased speaking. Thranduil, dismayed at what he had just learnt, knew he was waiting to be reprimanded, and he was going to have to oblige.
"You started shooting at a legion of a hundred orcs?", he asked sternly. He was almost sure Legolas could not have been the initiator of such a foolish deed; but then again, one could never be sure with him when it came to trying to save his fellow warriors.
"Yes", Legolas said, without meeting his eye.
"You commanded this?", Thranduil demanded.
Legolas hesitated for a moment. "No." His reply was soft, almost a whisper. Thranduil knew then what had happened; Legolas did not want to rob his deceased friend of his honor, but the initial error had been Silef's. And could well have cost the whole patrol their lives. He hated to have to put his son through this, but for protocol, he had to continue his line of questioning.
"So who –"
"What happened then?", Avornion interrupted him. "You started shooting, and what happened then?"
Thranduil was surprised, but relieved. He knew that what might have been viewed as disrespectful was an act of kindness, and perhaps also of strategy to keep Legolas talking, that he himself was in the wrong position to perform, as it would make him vulnerable to accusations of favoritism toward his son. So he simply threw his second a grateful look and said nothing.
Legolas looked, if not relieved, at least a bit less tormented. He continued. "We managed to hold them off from capturing us. We had the advantage of the trees. But we could not save Lindhel. There were too many of them. She was – they killed her." He drew in a long, shuddering breath and forced himself to continue speaking. "The others caught up with us some time later, saw the battle, and engaged."
Legolas was visibly struggling now. He no longer made any effort to look up at them while he spoke. Thranduil desperately wanted to comfort him, but this had to be done. It might even be good for him, he told himself. So he just waited for Legolas to resume.
After a moment of silence, he managed to regain some composure. "I did not see everything that happened after that", he said quietly. "We covered them from the trees for a while longer, but then we both ran out of arrows and joined them on the ground. We managed to stay together for a while, then the trolls got involved, and it was mayhem. Thoron, Silef and Ewen were near me, they were the only ones I saw fall. Silef and Ewen were both attacked by orcs from behind while they were battling the trolls. Thoron and I were swept from our feet by the trolls' clubs and then beaten. I … lost consciousness, I cannot say what happened to the others, but I believe that was what killed Thoron."
Clubs then. Legolas had had his legs smashed to pieces by trolls' clubs. That would explain it.
"What then, ernil-nîn?", Avornion asked gently, after Legolas showed no signs of continuing his account.
Legolas answered with a bitterness in his voice that had not been there before. "Tuialeth found me when the battle was over. The remaining orcs had moved on. Tuialeth checked for survivors, I myself was not able to –" His voice broke. He took a deep breath and forced himself through the rest. "She found none. They even killed all the horses, save Thûl. Tuialeth took me to shelter under a nearby tree. She was wounded and I urged her - ordered her - to ride back and get help. She insisted that she was not badly hurt, sent Thûl instead and stayed to care for me. She lost a lot of blood and her wound became infected. I could not do anything to help … she died a few days later."
Legolas was breathing heavily in what looked more like anger than grief. Thranduil, for once, found himself unable to speak.
"I think we have heard enough", Avornion said softly, taking charge and rising. The others copied him. "We leave you to rest, ernil-nîn, and thank you for your time. Posto vae."
They made for the door. Thranduil remained where he was. Avornion turned back to him.
"Aran-nîn, we await you in the council chambers", he said. Thranduil nodded, his throat still constricted.
The moment they were out of the room, he was at Legolas' bedside. He sat down carefully and gathered the younger elf into his arms. Legolas leaned into him and all of their composure fell away.
"I am so sorry, ion-nîn", Thranduil said quietly into his shoulder. "I am so sorry you had to live through that."
"I did not think that I would", Legolas said softly, and Thranduil immediately regretted his choice of words. That was not what he had meant. "And I still do not understand."
"What do you not understand?", Thranduil asked, a knot reforming in his chest.
"How did I live?", he asked, his voice breaking. "I thought it was over. I felt … and yet I am here."
"You were almost gone", Thranduil whispered. "You were almost gone, but you came back. To me."
"You should have let me go, Ada. I do not deserve to be here."
"Do not say that!", Thranduil growled.
"All those under my command are dead, and I am not", Legolas whispered. "And it is my fault, it was my decisions … I failed …"
"You did not fail!", Thranduil snarled, giving Legolas a shake. "These are the demands of war, that is all! You were in charge. Because you are good at what you do. That does not make everything that went wrong your fault."
"I fired with Silef", Legolas continued, ignoring his father's words. "I should have stayed hidden, I should have gone back and warned the others to stay away. The orcs would not have seen me, I was nowhere near Silef's tree. I was foolish, and you know it, Ada. Do not try to tell me otherwise."
" Oh, las-nîn", Thranduil murmured. He gently stroked his son's hair, his mind reeling. Legolas was right. Joining Silef's fire had been the wrong decision, unworthy of Legolas' rank, and a mistake that had cost many their lives. He desperately wished it were not so, but he could no longer deny Legolas' part in the disaster; He only hoped he could help him get through it.
"You made a mistake", Thranduil conceded softly. "Your rashness to protect others has always been your weak point. I knew this, and agreed you be made captain all the same. Because it has often been a great strength of yours too."
"No", Legolas whispered. "It never has been. I was always playing hero, and I taught my entire unit to do the same. It was never a strength, we were just lucky. Silef firing in the first place … that might as well have been me. He learned that from me. And Tuia –"
He broke off and dropped his forehead heavily into Thranduil's shoulder. Thranduil rubbed his back, hard, wishing he could take away some of the pain.
"You cannot blame yourself for Tuialeth's death", he said. "You wanted her to save herself. She thought she knew better. There was no more you could do."
"She stayed because of me, Ada", Legolas said bitterly. "Because I had given her some false sense of – I should have been more careful – had I kept my distance, she would have obeyed me …"
Thranduil's heart sank. So Legolas had had some kind of relationship with Tuialeth … this was even worse than he thought. No wonder his son blamed himself. They did not have explicit rules to forbid this, but as her superior, and her prince, his son should have been more responsible.
"Oh, penneth", he said sadly. "You should have known better." There was no use in hiding or sugarcoating it, he knew that Legolas had no use for any of that.
"Please inform the council for me, Ada", Legolas said quietly. "I do not think I adequately conveyed my fault in this." He slowly pulled out of his father's embrace and sat, slightly hunched over, on the bed in front of him.
"No, penneth, you did", he said, reflecting on what Legolas had said. "I just chose not to hear it. But I will make sure what you have told me is known. It is not too late to make amends."
"And I wish to be reduced in rank", Legolas continued, looking Thranduil in the eye. "They will probably do that anyway, but if they do not, I would request it. I will surrender my title if necessary. It may be merely symbolic, but I owe this to my unit's families. I do not deserve to retire with honor."
For a moment, Thranduil was confused; then he realized Legolas was talking about his legs. He realized with a pang that his son did not expect them to fully heal. Even though he had forbidden all the healers to insinuate anything of the sort in front of him.
"And announce it soon", Legolas went on before Thranduil could object. "While it still has a chance of making an impact. Once my condition is known, the gesture will seem weak."
"I will speak to the council", Thranduil said quietly. "We will see about your rank. If that is your wish, I will see it done." Then he seized Legolas' arm and pulled on it, hard. "But in the meantime, I want no more of this talk from you", he hissed. "I forbid it. You will recover, and you can start over as lieutenant or private or stable boy, but you are not retiring from anything. Do you hear?" He gave his arm another sharp yank to drive home his point.
Legolas scoffed, rubbing his arm. "Yes, aran-nîn ", he said wryly. "Obviously, I will do my best."
"Good", Thranduil spat. He felt his temper rising at the unfairness of it all; perhaps Legolas had made mistakes while in charge, but he had been the one who had put his son in that position; as king, the fault lay ultimately with him. As far as he was concerned, Legolas had already paid for his mistakes ten-fold, had spent a week lying grievously injured and untreated under a tree, had watched his friend die next to him, had nearly died himself, and was confined to bed indefinitely, in constant pain, and having to bear the guilt of what he had done, or thought he had. But he, the king, was safe and fine in his stronghold, as usual. Nobody was going to blame him or demote him or demand that he make amends. It might be his fault, but for him, there would be no consequences save those imposed by his own conscience.
"I must go and join the council now", he said, trying to keep the anger out of his voice lest Legolas misunderstood it as being aimed toward him. "I will return right after. Please, lasseg-nîn, know that I do not blame you for any of this. You meant well; that may not count for that much for the council, or your king – but for your father, it is all that matters. Please tell me that you know this." He took Legolas' hand.
Legolas looked at him sadly. "I know you do not blame me, Ada", he said quietly.
Thranduil gave his hand a squeeze. He could see that Legolas was in earnest, even if Thranduil's opinion on the matter did not count very much to him. He stood and kissed his son's brow.
"Good", he said. "Now rest." He turned to leave. "I am sending in Tawaren. Please don't ignore her completely."
yéni - one yen is 144 years (yeah I'm pretty sure this is a Quenyan term, if there's a Sindarin equivalent then I would love to hear about it)
ernil-nîn - my prince
Posto vae - Rest well
ion-nîn - my son
penneth - young one
aran-nîn - my king
las(seg)-nîn - my leaf (diminutive)
