Beastly || Legolas

seventeen

"Get him onto the table". 

Sharp lancing pain knocked Namir back into semi-conciousness and he shrieked as he was lifted up and onto the table. The table had been stood back up and it was hard on his back as he was set down. Immediately he tried to curl up but hands caught his arms and pulled him back. He could smell orc blood, fear and the scent of forests. The last scent was calming slightly and he blinked opened his eyes. Gaze focusing on the blur of white gold and green looming over him. 

"Tauriel, go after the others", Legolas ordered, though his gaze did not stray from Namir's face. Tauriel nodded and Kili let go of Namir. 

"I'll go with her", he volunteered, striding after her with his sword. Fili looked down at Namir then at his brother. Then he glanced at the other two dwarves before looking at Legolas. 

"Heal him. You elves better not be responsible for the death of one of the last Skin-changers", he threatened before he was storming after his brother and the red haired she-elf.

Legolas eyed the room. "Hold him", he commanded as he snatched up the kings foil from where the weed had fallen. Bofur and Bifer both grabbed at Namir's shoulder as Tilda and Sigrid took a leg. Bain reaching out to half lie on the other. 

"Legolas", Namir gasped, eyes unseeing. "Go. I won't die". 

"No", Legolas' tone was firm. He examined the gory arrow wound with a frown, the man hissing at his touch. "This is a poison the patrol guard mixes to kill the spiders who escape our blades. It is not permitted for use on others. It is the fault of my men for shooting at you with an arrow intended for the foul creatures and I intend to take responsibility for it". 

"Why?" Namir wheezed through another shudder. 

Legolas rested a palm over his forehead, not flinching at the unnatural heat radiating off his skin. "It is to pay back the debt I owe you". Then his hand was gone and he was breaking the kings foil in his hands, crushing the leaves so that the oils of the plant stained his fingertips. He rubbed it over his palms before pressing it down onto the open wound. Namir jerked suddenly with a scream as pain flared. The two dwarves holding him and the three children gasping with the effort to hold him still as Legolas pressed firmly down. The elf's lips moving and melodic elvish filling the air. The words twisting over each other as he repeated them again and again. 

"Menno o nin na hon i eliad annen annin, hon leitho o ngurth."  ("May the blessing that was given to me be sent from me to him, may he be released from death.")

Namir's struggles grew weaker as the words kept repeating. Legolas spoke them quietly, almost mumbling them under his breath as he gazed down at the man below. Namir met his gaze through half lidded dark eyes as the pain slowly began to ebb. He stopped shaking, lying limp on the table as he watched the elf in dreamy awe. It seemed like Legolas was lit from behind by a golden light. It glowed on his face and hair, dancing in his eyes as the chant faded into background noise. Namir blinked weakly, more exhausted than sick as the words faded and the glow receded. 

Legolas took a breath and moved his hands away from the wound. Namir didn't stir at the movement, stomach rising and falling evenly as his eyes slipped shut. Already the colour of the wound looked better. It was no longer bleeding and the infection redness had abated. Everyone let out sighs of relief, some louder than others. Legolas reached up to rest his hand on Namir's forehead again. His temperature was already going down, a good sign. Namir watched him through barely open eyes. When the blue met the brown, they slipped shut and soft rumbling purrs began to emanate from his chest. "Miog", Legolas whispered as he stroked back the sweat stricken hair. Namir tilted his head into the touch and fell asleep. 

He woke for a second time in a matter of hours in far less pain. Nothing lingered but a deep ache in his bones and a stinging pain in his side. No longer the pain of poison but the itchy pain of a scabbed wound. It sharpened for a second and he opened his eyes to see Bofur tying fresh bandages. The sight was still blurry and his head still muddled from the after effects of the fever but he could smell the dwarves and Bard's children in the room. The scents of honey, trees, bark and flowers danced around him too and his eyes rolled as he tried to find the scent. Legolas was washing his hands in a bowl of water, his back half turned away from him. Bofur finished the bandages and crossed over to join Bifer by the window. Bard's children were in their bedroom, huddled together for reassurance. 

"Legolas", his voice was a sighing whisper. The blonde elf turned, blue eyes full of emotions. Curiosity, concern, and something else that Namir couldn't name. It wasn't anger or frustration. It was something vulnerable and open that made him smile slightly. "I thought you did not like me". His voice was soft and half asleep. "Kept me caged". 

"Namir", Legolas moved closer, leaning over the table to rest his hand back over the skin-changer's forehead. "I never hated you. My feelings were rash. I am deeply sorry". 

"You are beautiful". Some of the golden glow seemed to be lingering around the elf's form and Namir smiled as he watched it dance over the white gold strands of his hair. Part of him knew it was only his weary mind dreaming up the light, but it was so pretty that he did not care. "So beautiful. Didn't want you to die. You were kind to me". A purr began as Namir spoke. The haziness of his mind letting the words flow freely and with soul bearing honesty. One hand reached out and Legolas took it, clasping their fingers together as the elf's other hand began stroking over Namir's forehead in the same way it would back in those nights in Mirkwood under the full moon. 

"My elf prince". Namir's voice was a rumble that matched his purrs. "You stole my heart and you never knew it. All those meetings. But, will you ever see me more than a beast?" The last question was so quiet and raw that the elf leaned closer to catch those words. 

"Namir", the name was spoken quietly in lack of any other words. Legolas did not need to say anything else. The weight of everything unspoken lingered in the air. Namir tightened his grip on the elf's hand and closed his eyes, the warm purring vibrating in his chest as fingers stroked over his forehead. The third time he fell asleep, it was to warmth and a dream where the look in Legolas' eyes held love too. 

unedited