This, And My Heart Beside *added ch. 20/part 1*

CHAPTER 18/PART 3

“Tell me everything,” Tyrion had said to Thranduil as he led him gently back toward the palace. He knew that he already had the full story, courtesy of Hilith, but he surmised that it would be therapeutic for his friend to speak of the details of Legolas’ attack. Tyrion could not have guessed how correct he was; by the time they entered the palace, and Thranduil had related everything he knew, the Ilandrian King could feel much of the tension in his friend’s body ease gradually. Tyrion kept a ortiortive arm around the shoulders of his friend as they walked, and he smiled a little when Thranduil actually began to lean against him.

“I am so grateful you are here,” the Mirkwood King stopped and looked up at his dark-haired friend with an earnest thankfulness.

Tyrion gazed down into bright blue eyes. Sincerely, he replied, “Where else would I be?”

Thranduil understood his meaning, and nodded. He clasped the shoulders of the other Elf, and leveled a solemn gaze into his eyes. “You do know, do you not mellon, that we would be at your threshold this very moment, if any of you needed us?”

Tyrion smiled tenderly, and clasped Thranduil’s arms in return. “I have never doubted that. We are brothers, you and I; your house and mine are all of one family, are they not? Perhaps, one day, we will need your aid. And I rest easy in the certainty that you will be there, should that day come. Now,” he added as they resumed walking, “let us see what can be done for Legolas.”

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The scene that greeted Thranduil’s tired eyes, as they entered his son’s bedchamber, touched him deeply. Belorfilad and Uriong stood at Legolas’ bedside, their handsome faces etched with sorrow and barely contained rage, that such a thing could happen to him. Uriong comforted his lover, with a hand on his back, massaging it gently. Tyrion’s wife, Anylinde, sat beside Naniel on the divan and held her hand. She spoke to her in a soothing voice, and Naniel listened intently, her lovely face more peaceful than it had been since the onset of this monstrous incident. Thranduil felt such a strong surge of gratitude toward the Ilandrian Queen, that his tears threatened to fall again, but he held himself together. Then his eyes fell on his darling daughter. She stood in the corner of her brother’s chambers, talking with Isalith, who was down on one knee, holding her small hands between his. Their faces were so close, that their foreheads nearly touched.

“Some evil men have hurt my brother,” Hania whispered miserably, “and now he is fading.” Her own words, words that she had not dared to speak before, terrified her; and she looked pleadingly at Isalith, as helpless tears began to fall.

“I want him back, Isalith! I want my Legolas back!” Hania dissolved into wracking sobs, and the Ilandrian Prince gathered her into his arms.

Smoothing her hair and kissing her forehead, he murmured, “And you will have him back, little bird. We shall *all* have him back, I promise you.” He stood, with Hania in his arms, and carried her to sit beside her mother. Naniel smiled lovingly, and wound a protective arm around her daughter.

Standing before Thranduil and Tyrion now, Isalith was moved to pity. Clearly, the King of Mirkwood slepslept very little in the past few days. More reflex, than conscious action, the Prince raised one hand to touch Thranduil’s temple, and softly uttered one simple word.

“Calm.” Instantly, the King’s brow smoothed, and the lines of tension that creased the skin beside his mouth relaxed and faded away. Isalith nodded once to his father, who led his friend to a chair close to Naniel and Hania, and lowered him into it gently.

Everyone present in the room watched Isalith expectantly, as he moved to the bed of his beloved, and leaned over him, studying his ashen face. The Captains moved aside to give him more space. Isalith’s brows drew together and he swallowed hard, as his slate-colored eyes scanned Legolas’ injuries in horror. For one brief second he feared that he, too, would lose all self-restraint. The sight of the one he loved, lying here, so wan and wounded, his chest barely rising and falling in a frighteningly shallow breathing pattern, nearly caused him to come undone, but Isalith mastered himself quickly. He *had* to, or Legolas would have no chance, whatsoever.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, beside the dying Prince, Isalith reached out one hand and placed it over his lover’s heart. With the other, he gently clasped Legolas’ uninjured hand and placed it over his own heart. Closing his eyes, the Ilandrian Prince listened, in his mind, until he both felt and heard the frail heartbeat beneath his palm. He concentrated harder, and soon his own pulse was perfectly matched with that of his beloved, and their breaths came and went in perfect unison. The connection was made.

Isalith opened his storm-gray eyes, blind to everything around him in that chamber. He saw only what Legolas saw now, and his eyes darted all around, searching. My poor darling, he thought, no wonder you could not find your way back. All was mist, swirling and icy cold, but Isalith moved forward, reaching out with everything inside him, feeling for the presence of his dear one.

“Legolas!” he called out. “I am , bu, but you must help me. You must tell me where you are, *please*!”

A sound, muffled and distant, but discernible just the same, emanated from the mist to his right, and he began walking quickly toward it. “I am coming, my love,” he shouted. “I need you to call out to me once more.” Again, the sound of Legolas’ voice floated to him through the mist, but now it was much closer. Isalith broke into a run then, and within seconds he found him.

Legolas half-reclined he dhe dark floor, his arms shakily braced to support his upper body. In spite of his mortal wounds, he smiled weakly when Isalith came and fell to his knees before him. The raven-haired Prince cupped his bruised face gently, and kissed him softly, careful not to cause him more pain.

“You came for me,” Legolas whispered, resting his forehead against Isalith’s.

“Of course I did,” Isalith laughed softly. “Never will I abandon you. I cannot spare you; none of us can. You must come back with me now, dearest. You are needed …. And you are loved, more than you know.”

Legolas smiled sadly then. “I cannot, beloved. However hard I try, I cannot move from this spot. I have not the strength.”

“Then, I lend you mine,” Isalith replied. “When we were but children, and I was afraid of my own shadow, you freely granted me *yours*. Draw strength from *me* now.” And wrapping his arms around his love, he kissed him again and raised him up from the floor. As the two Princes embraced and kissed, Isalith’s hands roamed over the torso of his blonde lover, instinctively seeking out and healing his grave wounds, and infusing strength into his exhausted body.

Within the confines of Legolas’ bedchamber, Thranduil, and his wife and daughter watched in amazement as the hands of the black-haired Prince glowed with a warm light, just as his father’s had done that day at the cliffs, when he healed his son’s broken leg. They glided over Legolas’ flesh, with a will of their own, erasing every vestige of bruising and broken skin, before pressing down lightly against his torso. Several moments passed, as Isalith sought out his lover’s most crucial injuries, mending them and restoring Legolas to health. When the blonde Prince at last sighed deeply, Naniel choked back a sob. It was the first movement her son had made in over two days, and she and her husband silently thanked Iluvatar.

Inside the vof swf swirling gray mist, Isalith and Legolas broke their kiss, and Isalith reached for the savaged hand of his love, clasping it gently against his chest. He bent his dark head in concentration for a moment, before placing a tender kiss into the palm of Legolas’ hand.

“Are you ready to return home?” Isalith asked.

Legolas smiled lovingly. “I am *beyond* ready, my love.”

They walked pressed closely together, arms around one another, toward the place of light and warmth that they both knew and loved.

On the edge of Legolas’ bed, Isalith’s eyes cleared suddenly and he turned to look at the royal family of Mirkwood. He smiled and nodded reassuringly, before turning back to Legolas, and gently touching his shoulder.

“Open your eyes, dearest,” he said smiling. “You are safe at home.”

Legolas slowly awoke and blinked the haze from his blue eyes. Seeing Isalith, he smiled radiantly, before catching sight of his family from the corner of his eye. He turned his head quickly to look at them.

“Where have you been?” he chided gently. “I have missed you all so.”

Several seconds of stunned silence passed before the three came to life, launching themselves from their chairs, and rushing to Legolas’ bed in joy. Isalith moved to stand between his mother and father, and they smiled happily as they watched the loving family reunion before them.

Anylinde slipped an arm through her son’s and leaned into him, speaking softly. “Will he remember what happened to him?” she asked.

“Yes, nana, it was Legolas’ choice to do so. He said it would serve to make him wiser and more cautious, in the future.” Isalith smiled and pressed his mother’s hand, before walking to the opposite side of Legolas’ bed, where Hania curled up contentedly against him. Thranduil sat behind his son, cradling him against his chest protectively, as Naniel sat beside Legolas, clutching his hand tightly and kissing it repeatedly as she smiled through her tears.

Isalith leaned down to whisper into the Princess’ ear, “You may remove the wrapping from your brother’s hand, if you wish.”

From where she lay, within the curve of Legolas’ arm, Hania turned slightly to gaze questioningly at her brother’s lover. Isalith smiled, and nodded encouragement. All eyes were on Hania as she cautiously began unwinding the bandage. It was still stained with blood, and the King and Queen cringed slightly as their son’s hand slowly became visible, starting at the wrist. When only his fingers remained covered, Hania paused for a moment, then quickly removed the last of the cloth. She gasped. The hand of the Prince of Mirkwood emerged, whole and unmarred, and Thranduil and Naniel turned to Isalith in wonder and gratitude.

Thank you, Thranduil mouthed silently; Isalith smiled and inclined his head.

“You will regret doing that, little sister,” Legolas intoned in a menacing voice. Hania looked closely into eyes that were leveled at hers threateningly.

“Why?” she asked tremulously.

“Why?” he echoed. “Because now I can do this …” and his hand descended to tickle her side mercilessly. Hania giggled and gasped, trying to squirm from his grasp, but Legolas held her tightly for another moment before relenting and kissing her cheek. He made to push the coverlet aside and rise from the bed, but Isalith stopped him.

“You must rest yet, muin, you have been through a terrible ordeal.”

“But I have rested over two days already, Isalith,” Legolas argued.

“You have lain in this bed, fighting for your life for two days,” his lover corrected. “That is hardly the same thing.”

“Isalith is right, my son,” Thranduil injected, when Legolas attempted to press the debate. “You should truly sleep now, at least for a while.”

“All right, Ada,” the Prince conceded, lying back upon his pillows. In all honesty, he *was* suddenly overcome by weariness. He caught sight of his friends, Belorfilad and Uriong, and was barely able to raise his hand in greeting before falling into a profoundly deep sleep almost instantly.

Naniel motioned Hania off the bed and took her hand, leading her to where Isalith again stood with his mother and fr. r. After hugging Isalith tightly for many moments, Naniel looked at her friends guiltily.

“I must apologize for my most ungracious behavior, but I find that I cannot remain upright much longer.” She laughed, in spite of the heavy exhaustion she felt, brought on by overwhelming relief at having her son returned to them.

Anylinde kisser cer cheek. “When you awaken,” she reassured her, “we shall be here.”

Turning to go, Naniel spoke to her husband. “Are you coming, dearest?”

“Soon,” he assured her, and watched as the two left the room; then he spoke to Belorfilad. “Will you tell Hilith that Legolas is well, my friend? He waits in the corridor, and has blamed himself for this, from the beginning. I cannot convince him that he could not have prevented it. Perhaps *you* could give him the peace of mind th cou could not.”

Belorfilad smiled. “Ah, I see he makes the same mistake I made in the beginning. I would be happy to s wit with him, Lord Thranduil.” And taking Uriong with him, he left the chamber to seek young Hilith.

Finding him standing in an alcove in the wall, staring unhappily out the window, the two lovers exchanged glances before approaching him.

“Greetings, Hilith,” Belorfilad said amiably. “You will be relieved to know that the Prince is healed and resting comfortably. He will recover.”

Hilith turned away from the window, and faced them without smiling.o tho thanks to me,” he said solemnly.

Belorfilad choo pro pretend he knew nothing of the young Captain’s feelings of culpability. “Why do you say that, Hilith?”

“If I had watched over him more closely, if I had insisted he tell me of his whereabouts at all times, this would never have happened. *You* would have kept him in your sight, Belorfilad. I have failed my Prince,” he shedshed dejectedly.

The former Mirkwood Captain laughed softly. “Is *that* what you think, Hilith? If so, let me assure you that nothing could be further from the truth. On many occasions, I found myself frantically searching for Legolas. Perhaps you had not noticed, but he is very strong-willed and has his own mind. If he wishes to escape your watchful eye, he will do so. You could have done nothing differently, I assure you.”

Belorfilad placed his hands on Hilith’s bowed shoulders. “You saved his life, my friend; by driving off the men who attacked him, the moment you caught them, you bought time for Legolas.” He gazed assessingly at the younger Elf. “I was right in commendinu fou for the position of Captain.”

Hilith’s dark eyes shone with gratitude at those words. “Thank you,” he said simply.

And he smiled, at last.

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In Legolas’ bedchamber, Thranduil, Tyrion, and Isalith stood quietly watching the Prince as he slept. His color had returned, and he breathed deeply and evenly.

Isalith turned to face his father, and Thranduil saw an overwhelmingly intense change in his eyes. Gone was the compassionate warmth that had helped to calm and comfort the royal family of Mirkwood, replaced by something dark and dreadful that Thranduil had never seen before in the gentle gray eyes.

No word was spoken between father and son, yet much was said. Tyrion clasped Isalith’s upper arm and nodded in silent accord. At that moment, realization set in for the King of Mirkwood. He knew beyond a doubt what Isalith was going to do about the men who brought such harm to his son.

He was going after them.

“I would go with you,” he said resolutely. Now that Legolas was healed and on the road to recovery, Thranduil’s anguish had evaporated, and he hungered for retribution for his beloved son.

Tyrion intervened, before Isalith could respond. “I know you would, old friend, but I advise you to stay your hand in this matter. I know that what I ask of you is impossible,” he added soothingly, when Thranduil began to protest. “If *my* son were lying gravely wounded in his bed, the settling of scores would be uppermost in my mind, also. And yet, I *do* ask this of you. Best that no one in Mirkwood be involved; they could be held accountable for it. Ilandros is unknown among Men in this area. And this will be handled in a way that I think you will approve of. Legolas will have justice, and a clear message will be sent to those who might consider harming you and yours, in the future. Please, my friend.”

Thranduil searched Tyrion’s dark eyes for a moment, considering, before he conceded the wisdom of his friend’s words. He nodded silently, and turning to Isalith, embraced him strongly in gratitude.

The dark-haired Prince returned the embrace before taking his leave with a cryptic, “I will not be long,” and striding purposefully from the room.

Isalith made immediately for the stables to find his horse, and begin gathering together the small arsenal of weapons that she still carried; and when he was fully armed, he disappeared soundlessly, on foot, into the wood.

As he swiftly searched for the spot where Legolas had been attacked, to look for signs of the men’s route of escape, he became aware of the sound of steps and soft breathing behind him. He halted, and the steps did likewise, mere inches away.

“I did not know if you wished to be a party to this,” Isalith said quietly, over his shoulder. Hithrawyn stepped forward and gently laid his head over Isalith’s shoulder. The Prince reached up to stroke the nose of the tall black stallion.

“Your presence will be more than welcome,” he assured his old friend.

Knowing that even an Elf as tall as Isalith would have difficulty mounting him, Hithrawyn lowered himself to one knee, patiently allowing the Prince to vault onto his back.

And as the sun dappled through the trees to reflect brilliantly on the raven hair of Elf and stallion, they embarked in silence, to carry out their dark mission.


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muin: dear