A Healing Touch

Hello, everybody! Enjoy this chapter!

lilith: You are very welcome! Lol, yeah, that was pretty funny, and I can totally relate to that myself, 'cos I am definitely not a morning person. And yes, more angst ahead. Yay! Hehe... you walked into a door? Well, I'd be a hypocrite if I said I've never done the same, except I was in school when it happened. ::blushes:: so yeah, you're not alone.

louise_oblique: I'm glad you like. Did I update soon enough for you? ::hugs::

giggle: ::solutes giggle:: Aye, captain. We'll have lord Thranduil and prince Legolas out, right away... well, not right away, that would leave no room for angst. But soon.

Fucted Up Kid: Lol, have I ever told you that your name rocks? It does, seriy. Wy. Well, did I update soon enough? I really tried writing this chapter ASAP. And I'm glad you're enjoying this, and I'm happy you enjoyed the other chapter where Legolas encounters the men, now I have to write the conclusion to that chapter.

Mawgy: No, I still didn't get it. ::sniff:: But I'll try to be patient. And you're welcome for letting you know. So... how has uni been going? LMAO! Yeah, I kind of figured you'd find that disgusting, and I did kind of think you were a cat person. I'm a dog person myself, but cats are cute too, but I was traumatized by one when I was a kid 2cats were fighting, (actually they were mating, but at the tender age of 10 I didn't know any better) and I tried to split them apart by chucking stones at the ground beside them, and the male turned on me and clawed my foot apart. I was in the hospital for about 8 days with intervenus, the infection got that bad, and I was lucky the infection went away, otherwise they would have amputated my leg.
Anyway..... Yes! Viggo was absolutely gorgeous in those pants, and I loved the ending. Yup, so good luck with your work.

Courtney: Yes, evil cliffy, I am evil, aren't I. Enjoy the next chapter.

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As the dust finally began to clear around them, Thranduil groaned deep in his throat as he struggled to his hands and knees, holding back a hiss of pain as he put the pressure of his body on his right wrist. He sat on his haunches as he flexed it, and bit his lip when he realized that it was most definitely sprained. He blinked his eyes several times to clear them of the haze that stung his vision, and as he scanned over the enclosed space he now sat in, which only moments before was an open rock face, he quickly caught sight of a limp figure sprawled in the corner. “Legolas!”

With painful movement, the elven king hurriedly crawled over to his wounded son, pressing a hand over his still beating heart with a sigh of relief as he felt the rise and fall of his chest, and gently smoothed a hand over his face, encountering a warm sticky substance on his left temple. Though it was dark, even for his advanced elven vision, he could easily identify it as blood, and spoke in low volumes in attempt to rouse the injured elf. “Legolas, my son, you must wake… Legolas…”

The only response he received was a low moan, and he held his son’s hand firmly in his for reassurance, be it for his son or him, he couldn’t tell. His eyes wandered to the rocky enclosure that now sealed the entrance, and he heard muffled voices on the other side. “Tallen!” he cried. “Are you out there? Tallen!”

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On the other side of the enclosure, elves were scurrying about through the dying cloud of dust, using tools and their bare hands to clear the area of the boulders that now imprisoned their lord and his son.

The young prince’s head shot up when he heard his name cried from the other side of the wall, and he quickly ran to the large mound of rubble, pressing his ear tightly against it. Without doubt it was his father’s voice. “Father, I hear you! Are you well?”

The king’s voice was muffled, and he could scarcely hear him, and so he kept his ear firmly pressed against the stone. “I am well enough,” Tallen heard him say. “But Legolas has struck his head and is barely conscious. He needs medical aid.”

“We are working on a way to get you out, adarhe phe prince replied. “Hold on.”

“Is anyone else injured?” The king asked.

“Nay, we are all well, do not worry. You must examine Legolas for other injuries, and make sure he does not swallow his tongue. You will be out soon.”

“Hurry.”

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Their conversation then ceased as Tallen returned to work with the other elves and Thranduil sighed as he adjusted his position so that he was seated with his legs crossed in front of him.

Well, this is a fine mess, he thought to himself as he gently probed across his young son’s injured body, lifting his hands up every few inches to check for blood. They were now trapped in this dark, musky impoundment, with no healing supplies, no food or water, and afforded with no illumination except for the aura of elven light that was a constant presence surrounding their fair bodies. It was better than nothing, he supposed, but the eerie shadows that cast themselves upon the walls unnerved even him.

For a long while, he merely sat their in silent contemplation, passing a gentle hand through his son’s flaxen hair. What a fool he had been, not to see the signs of grief sooner. Though Legoas had hidden his pain considerably well, the innocence in his eyes had been slowly fading, and Thranduil did not know how he could have missed it. Legolas was a hard worker, did everything he possibly could to please him, never asking for anything in return other than his family’s love and pride. He was a wonderful son, and a wonderful prince, his people loved him dearly. He was very kind to others, and truly Elrond had given him a worthy nickname. Glaurohun. Heart of gold, or golden heart.

How different the young prince was from him, and so like his mother. It was truly a shame that Legolas would never know her. Thranduil remembered when his youngest son was but an elfling, and how much Asilion truly adored him. After a long day’s work, he would often go to the nursery and find them together. When she was not teaching the child his lessons, they would be playing on the floor together, painting a picture or playing with Legolas’ carved animals.

There were times when he would take his family into the gardens in the evenings, and Legolas would scurry up tree att attempt to make friends with the birds and squirrels, causing panic to rise in him. Asilion would merely chuckle as she watched her son protectively, reassuring him that he would be fine. She was a sylvan elf, and so her blood also ran in their sons vanes, making tree climbing a second nature to them.

Though it was the little things that Thranduil cherished most. The nights when he and Asilion were sleeping together, and Legolas would come scrambling into their chambers out of nightmares. They had lovingly put the elfling between them to comfort him and had wooed him back to sleep in their protective embrace.

All that had shattered the night the orcs and the spiders invaded, taking nearly everything Thranduil held dear, including the life of his beloved wife and his youngest son’s innocence forever. That had forever changed them all.

He had become cold and callous, Nava had buried himself in his work to ignore the pain, and Tallen would forever seek vengeance on the ones who had torn his mother from him. And Legolas. The dear sweet child would no longer feel the gentle kisses of his mother and never feel the heat of her skin as she held him close. He had been forever scarred by the foul beasts who had nearly killed him. If it were not for the half-elf, and the Balrog slayer, he surely would be dead.

They had healed him, had taken care of him. Had loved him. Which was more than he had ever done. Ifthinthing, Elrond and Glorfindel had been the family Thranduil had never given him. And now that he knew he was suffering because their bond had been torn…

Thranduil’s reverie was suddenly broken by a fit of coughing, and nearly jumping out of his skin, he carefully rolled his son onto his side so that he would not choke on his own saliva and soothingly rubbed his back. “Legolas,” he whispered.

It took several moments for the coughing to cease, and it left Legolas’ chesavinaving for breath. He slowly lay back down with a groan, and blinked several times to adjust to the dimness of his surroundings. “Ada,” he moaned, and Thranduil grashis his hands, squeezing them gently.

“I am here, ion-nin.” Thranduil replied, sweeping his free hand down his son’s face.

The prince’s head shifted around, gazing curiously at his surroundings. “Where…”

“The tunnel collapsed, do you not remember? And we are now trapped. Worry not, Tallen and the other elves are digging us out as we speak.”

Legolas nodded, an action he quickly regretted when he felt nausea rise within his stomach, and his head began to throb mercilessly. “My head aches,” he groaned. “And… I feel most weary.”

“You hit your head rather hard, I’m afraid. Just be still, and it should pass. But you must stay awake, otherwise you may not wake again.”

Legolas licked his dry lips to respond but suddenly tensed, his eyes squeezing tightly shut as he gasped for air, his hold on his father’s hands tightening.

“My heart hurts,” he whimpered, clutching at his chest.

Thranduil sighed, nodding his head. “I know… You are suffering from grief. Being away from your lovers for too long has finally taken its toll on you. Legolas, why did you not tell me sooner?”

The young elf looked away from his father as if ashamed of himself, and for a long moment he stared at nothing, worrying his lower lip before he responded. “Adar, you already have much on your mind, and I understand that ruling an entire kingdom is no easy task. You are often busy, and I did not wish to add to your burden.”

“Bur” th” the elf lord repeated in silent disbelief, the hint of tears beginning to grace his blue orbs. “Is that what you think you are? Legolas, you are anything but a burden in my life. You are my son, and I love you with all my heart.” He then pulled his injured son against his chest, wrapping his arms lovingly around him. “I I h I haven’t been the ideal father figure in your life, but never doubt my love for you. And I would most certainly never keep you away from your mates.”

“I… always thought you loathed Elrond.” Legolas whispered.

“I may not be very fond of him, Legolas, only because of a dispute which occurred long before your time. My father had a rather large effect on my train of thought in that instance. He despised the Noldor for what their ancestors did, and despite circumstances, considered mostly all of them kinslayers. But that is long past. As much as I despise Elrond, that does not mean that I will keep you away from your heart’s desire. I know you love them, and the feelings are quite mutual, I believe. And once this is all over with, arrangements will be made to have you escorted to Rivendell.”

Legolas looked up, and smiled gratefully at his father. “Thank you, adar.”

“You are welcome, my son. You know, Elrond and I were not always thus. We were once friends, though my father greatly disapproved. I think my father’s death in the great battle was what turned me from him. For the longest time, Imed med his death on Gil-galad, but Elrond was very adamant over the High king’s innocence of the matter. He claimed that Oropher’s recklessness proved to be his own downfall. Only in the end, years later, did I come to terms with the truth of those words… and lost a very close friend.”

“You could not have known any better,” The prince murmured. “Mistakes were made, and the past cannot be changed, but perhaps-- perhaps things can be reconciled between the two of you.”

“Perhaps,” the king countered. “Nevertheless, ‘tis far time you see your mates again. I wish you would have told me of your grief sooner, and I apologise for not realizing your dilemma sooner.”

“I am sorry for this, ada. I should have told you sooner, I was foolish. If I would have told you in the beginning, we would not be in this predicament.”

“And I would have never found out that you were grief stricken until it was too late. Things happen for a reason, Legolas. In a way, perhaps thas aas a good thing.”

The young prince nodded, and opened his mouth to reply when his face contorted in agony as another wave of pain flared within his chest, and before he could stop it, a blood curdling cry escaped his mouth and he clutched at his father’s tunic in anguish.

Thranduil held him tightly to his chest as he rode out the affliction that enveloped his body, and when it finally desisted, Legolas was left trembling in his father’s arms, panting against the pain. “Shh, Legolas, it is over. We will get you to Elrond and Glorfindel soon, shh.” The elf lord murmured, as he gently rocked his son as if he were a mere elfling again.

“Ai, it hurts,” Legolas whimpered into his father’s chest.“I k“I know, ion-nin, I have felt the pain you are now in. After I lost your mother, I felt it too. If it were not for you and your brothers, I doubt I would even be alive today.”

“You… you loved us that much?” the younger elf asked.

“I did… and I still do.”

A long moment of silence past by, and Thranduil became worried that Legolas had fallen asleep and he gently roused him. “Legolas?”

“Hmm,” Legolas mumbled in response.

“You must stay awake, my son.”

“I was not asleep,” the prince protested. “I was merely dozing.”

“No dozing eitheThraThranduil could not help but smile as his son groaned into his chest, which to him sounded more like a whine of protest. Something he would have done as a child. Legolas licked his lips again and shifted his weight.

“Ai, my mouth is so dry. Adar, would you please give me my water flask?”
Thranduil’s brow furrowed, and as his eyes shifted he noticed for the first time the flask attached to his son’s belt. He was quick to untie it, and carefully dribbled small amounts of water at a time into his son’s mouth, halting when he deemed he was overdoing it. Legolas thanked him, and for a long while they merely sat silently.

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Rivendell….

Elrond sighed as he dipped his quill into a small jar of ink before scribbling across a scroll of sheepskin thoughtfully. He had been burying himself in his work frequently as of late, in attempt to occupy himself from his aching heart. Too long had he wwithwithout seeing his young lover, and even the mere thought of him filled his chest with anguish. He loved him, yet for the sake of responsibility, they could not see each other. Little did he know of the pain he caused himself, too focused in his duties.

He and Glorfindel had spent their nights together, sharing tales of the young prince in his younger days, and taking comfort from each other’s presence. They made love infrequently, not because they shared no lbetwbetween each other anymore, that was clearly an understatement, but because without Legolas, they felt incomplete, and it somehow felt wrong to them both.

The elf lord paused in his writing and placed down the quill to rub a hand over his face in annoyance. It was so difficult to concentrate lately. Somehow, thoughts of Legolas would creep into his mind and he had difficulty ignoring these thoughts, as if he was being pulled on a leash.

He was saved from the oncoming pain though, when the sound of footsteps distracted him and he turned his head to meet Erestor. The advisor was holding a tray in his hands, assorted with teacups and saucers, spoons, a small bowl of sugar and a kettle of tea. “I thought perhaps you could use this,” he explained as he placed the tray on the table the loremaster worked at.

“Thank you, my friend.” He muttered as the advisor poured him a cup before handing it to him, which he took gratefully. The major-domo stood in place, at first hesitant as he took in his lord’s appearance. To the untrained eye, he would look perfectly normal, but to one who truly knew him, they would notice the dullness that took on his eyes, and the ever depressed frown on the elf lord’s fair face. He was uncertain how to bring up the subject, as he seldom ever pried into other peoples’ affairs, but he had been growing increasingly worried over his lord and he shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably.

“Elrond… I s I speak boldly for a moment?” The elf lord lowered his cup from his lips and nodded for his companion to proceed. “As of late… I have noticed several changes in you. You seem to bury yourself in your work more frequently, as if you are attempting to be avoided, and I have also noticed that you eat less and less at meals. Your temper has also become very short, and your eyes… well, they seem to have lost their light, my lord. You also always seem rather upset.”

“Is there a point to this interrogation, Erestor?” the elf lord asked curtly.

“As a matter of fact, there is. I have seen the effects of heart break, Elrond, I nearly died after I lost my own mate and my child. Though you may try to hide it, you are suffering from grief. You long for young Legolas you rou refuse to go to him.”

Rarely was the lord of Imladris caught by surprise, and for a long awkward silence he simply stared at the other elf in disbelief before he spoke. “How you you know of our bond?”

“Narofea told me. He has also admitted that you share a triple bondage, consisting of you, Legolas and Glorfindel. There is no shame in it, my lord, and in all honesty I always suspected something between the three of you; the happiness in your eyes, the glow about your bodies, the joy in your very strides. You need not worry, aside from the twins and Narofea, I am the only one who knows. But you cannot go on like this… lest your life be taken.”

After mom momentary shock had worn off, Elrond stood from his chair and shook his head. “You may have forgotten, Erestor, but I am the lord of Imladris. I have responsibilities that keep me here and I cannot just up and leave whenever I wish.”

“ ‘Tis not as if we will be leaderless without you. Rivendell has been put in my care before, I can take care of things while you and Glorfindel are away. He too I have noticed changes in, we all have. He is much more quick to temper than before and he becomes far more agitated. You cannot deny that you both need him.”

“Thank you, Erestor, your concern is appreciated but unnecessary. I am a grown elf and am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Now if you will excuse me…”

“How much longer do you believe you will last, Elrond? A week? The pain in your eyes is as clear as day. If you go on much longer like this you could die.”

“I said, thank you, Erestor,” the elf lord snapped, suddenly becoming very impatient with his major-domo.

“How do you know Legolas is not suffering as well, Elrond? And what of Glorfindel? Are you truly willing to cause them both pain as well? How do you know Legolas is not dying this instance?”

“Erestor!” the loremaster’s voice was accompanied with a loud bang as he landed his fist on his oak desk, his face a picture of anger as he seethed through his teeth. But the rage upon his fair face soon changed as his cheeks seemed to drain of all colour and his breath suddenly came in short ragged gasps as he clutched his chest.

“My lord!” the advisor cried and he immediately closed the distance between them as he supported Elrond’s arms.

“I… I can’t breathe…” the elf lord gasped. He collapsed hard to his knees as a fire of pain grew within him, and he was barely aware of the hands guiding him to his feet and down to the healing wing.

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Glorfindel growled in frustration at one of the junior soldiers he was now combating with, and drove his sword into the ground as he stared down at his pupil in disapproval. “What have I told you about exposing your back to the enemy? You could easily be killed in a single heartbeat, what in Elbereth’s name were you doing?”

“I’m sorry, sir, I wasn’t thinking—”

“No, you weren’t thinking, and there lies the problem.”

The young soldier shrunk slightly at the anger displayed on the seneschal’s face. “It won’t happen again, my lord.”

“It had better not.”

Elladan and Elrohir watched from a distance under the old willow tree with furrowed brows. The golden haired elf was certainly acting odd as of late, as was their father, and both had a feeling as to why. As Glorfindel dismissed his class, the twins walked silently up to him as he thrust his hands into a barrel of water and brought them back up to splash his face. “Hard day?” the younger twin asked casually.

“Those elves are about as thick headed as a mule,” the elf lord muttered. “I’d be better off training a cat, for Iluvatar’s sake.”

“Oh, come now, Glorfindel,” Elladan jested in attempt to lighten the mood. “Surely they could not be as difficult to deal with as we were. Look on the bright side, at least you are not finding your prized sword stuffed in the privy.”

“I suppose that is an upside to these students. None of them have the gall to do something that foolish, lest they wish to feel my belt across their backsides before they polish every sword in the armoury.” Glorfindel replied as he stared pointedly at the twins.

“I still have nightmares about that,” Elladan sighed.

“It surprises me that you even took up a sword after that incident,” Elrohir retorted. “So, aside from your students, how fares everything else?”

“Just fine, thank you,” the elf lord replied as he picked up his sword, resting one foot on an old wooden bench while aid aid the blade across his thigh as he began to polish it.

“Well, that’s good. Nothing unusual happening? No lack of sleep, loss of appetite, sudden chest pains?” Glorfindel eyed Elladan strangely as the twin began to circle him, looking him up and down as if he were examining a horse.

“What are you two up to?”

“Us?” Elladan asked, feigning innocence. “Nothing at all, dear Glorfindel. Are we not allowed to inquire the wellbeing of our favourite teacher?”

“Not when that mischievous glint is in your eyes,” the seneschal bit back. “Nay, do not try and deny it. Tell me what is going on, now.”

The elder twin opened his mouth to object, but a hand on his shoulder silenced him. “Very well,” Elrohir sighed. “Glorfindel, long has it been since you’ve last seen Legolas. The bond has taken its toll on you, you and adar both need him, I can sense it. You are suffering, ‘tis obvious to the common onlooker. And Legolas, too, I sense is suffering.”

The elf lord’s hand rested on the blade of his sword, and for several moments, he simply stared at the twins, his face blank, but after a while he released a slow sigh and nodded. “Very perceptive. And you are correct, I have been missing Legolas as of late, as has your father. But we can do nothing. Legolas is an ambassador, he has not the time to make visits. And Elrond and I have duties here, as well.”

“Perhaps, but that still should not stop you from seeing each other. You are bonded, and things will get worse before they get better.”

“And what do you suggest I do, Elrohir? Cast aside my work, leap upon my stallion’s back and simply ride off into the setting sun? Life is not that simple, as much as I wish it was. I would gladly see Legolas again, but my work will not allow it. Not only that, but orcs are stirring up in the mountains again as well. As the seneschal of Rivendell, I have not the time to…” Glorfindel suddenly clutched at his heart, his next words dying on his lips as his eyes grew hard with pain.

“Glorfindel?” Elladan question.

“He is in pain,” Elrohir muttered as he and his brother grabbed each of the Balrog slayer’s arms before his knees hit the ground. “ ‘Tis the bond. Glorfindel, speak to me.”

The seneschal croaked deep within his throat as he attempted to get to his feet, his legs buckling under him at the pitiful effort. The twins supported him at each side. “We must get him to the healing wing,” Elladan stated. With the help of the twin sons of Elrond, Glorfindel stumbled painfully out of the courtyard, and to the Last Homely House.

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ada/adar: father
ion-nin: my son

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So... how was it?

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