Hobbit/The Lord of the Rings Imagines

Thranduil ~ Captured

You awoke with a small gasp, pain shooting through your hip as you tried to focus on the sudden balls of colour appearing before your swimming vision.  The pain became the focus and you couldn't help the soft groan that fell from you as you turned your head and tried to shift into a more comfortable position, but nothing seemed to work and you tried to remember what could've possibly happened that would get you like this.

Slowly, the balls of colour start to blur into images and you blink slowly, coming to the realisation that you were at the mouth of a cave overlooking a darkening forest.  You frowned, not making sense of this until a noise got your attention.

You turned your head around and made out the fire first, the figures around it then coming into focus.

Orcs.

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding.  You tried to move your hands only to find them tied too tightly together and that every movement brought that pain to your hip.

Your memory was such a blur, you remembered running, a voice shouting but you didn't know who's, the screeching and roars of the orcs, the clash of metal and metal and your own haggard breath as you ran, tripped, fell.  Pain had filled you before blackness had come.

That voice had demanded you run.

You blinked, bringing the orcs and your current situation back into focus.  Orcs very rarely took captives, which meant they had a reason, a master, who wanted something to do with you.  You couldn't let that happen, which meant you had to find a way to escape.

Moving, a sharp gasp left your lips, the pain too much from your hip to move far.

Eyes watering, the orcs still hadn't noticed you were awake.

A brief feeling of hopelessness filled you, if you were wounded to the extent that you couldn't move your body, then what hope did you have of escaping?  What the orcs do once they realised that you could not move?  Would they just kill you?  Or still try to make you move, undoubtedly sending you back into the darkness, unable to bear the pain.

They would've had to carry you here to begin with.

This thought made the fear override the hopelessness.  If they were willing to carry you to begin with, they certainly weren't going to stop now, which meant that they were under very strict orders, no doubt under pain of death should anything happen to you before hand.

Fighting with yourself, you began to control your breathing, forcing the world into more focus.

You had been ordered to run.

"Good thing we didn't lose it in the forest," One of the orcs growled, getting your attention.  "Otherwise we would've been dead meat."

"Put up a good fight to, not that it mattered once the blade was stuck in it's leg."  Another growled.

"Be glad you don't lose a limb for that."  A third voice came in.  "The master won't be happy if she doesn't survive long, he needs her."

You swallowed, by your count there were at least ten orcs by the fire, none of them paying any attention to you, no doubt knowing that with the wound, you couldn't go far.  The pain built up again as you tried to shuffle a little, your body aching, and you had to bite your lip against the groan that threatened to leave your lips.

"He wasn't happy though.  How many of us did he manage to kill before we got it?"

"Too many."  Was the reply, but it was enough for you to remember more.

Thranduil.

He had ordered you to run.

You stared at the roof of the cave.  You had both just been walking, enjoying time together when the attack came.  He was armed, you, foolishly, were not.  He had shouted at you, begged for you, to run back home, to get to safety and you had tried.

But the trip, the clash of metal on metal, the pain roaring through you, it had all been too much.

You could feel dampness on your cheeks as you stared at the ceiling.  If Thranduil had not come straight after you, it meant that he was dead.  If you had been left with the orcs, it meant that no one in your kingdom knew, and that Thranduil was dead.

This pain was worse than any physical blow the orcs could inflict and the sob broke free from you before you stop it.

"Oh look, it's awake."  One of the orcs came closer, a gleeful smile on its hideous face.  "Guess it was tougher than we thought."

"At least we know it's alive."  Another grunted from the near the fire.  "But we don't need no noise coming from it.  Knock it out again."

You watched with wide eyes as the orc clearly thought about the order before sneering down at you.  "Can't have a little fun first?"

"It's meant to be unharmed."  The same voice growled back.  "You've already screwed that up so knock it out and be done with it."

The orc above you looked disappointed, but the gleam in its eye was still there as it leaned in close, you gagging on the smell.  "Shame.  Such a pretty thing."

There was club in its hand and you watched as it raised, ready to strike you on the head to return you to the darkness before there was familiar sound, followed by a terrifying screech from the orc as an arrow stuck through its throat.

Noise burst around you as the orcs clambered to their feet, colour flying from the forest as the two groups rushed each other and the sound of metal on metal rang in your ears once more.

You had been ordered to run.  The sound of metal was a blade hitting your armour, you had swung and disarmed the orc, taking it's weapon and killing it before swinging to another, the blow killing it to.  That was when the pain had hit, digging deep into your side and you had tripped, falling down, down, down until the darkness took you and you were left with silence, a single voice crying your name.

The orcs were losing this fight and as they were pushed back away from you, a single figure came forward.

"Thranduil..."  Your voice was quiet as he knelt down next to you, his gaze burning with too many emotions to name.

"I am here Y/N..."  He spoke softly, his fingers gently brushing back your hair.  "You are safe."

Tears spilled from your eyes and he brushed them away, letting you lean into his hand.  "It hurts..."

"I know love."  Quickly, his hands move and cut the ropes burning your wrists and takes one of your hands in his, pressing his lips to it as he shuts his eyes for a moment.  "We will get you home."

"I'm sorry."  You continued quietly, your eyes so tired and starting to lower as he entwined your fingers.  "I should've run."

"This is my fault."  Thranduil leans down and presses a swift kiss to your lips.  "Don't you dare apologise."

You smile, the noise having finally died away to just the small talk of the other elves around you and a dulling pain your hip, which you vaguely realised was Thranduil inspecting it.

"Y/N..."  His voice was so far away but blue eyes held yours, filled with worry and fear.  "I will take care of you.  You will be fine."

The small smile was still on your lips as your eyes sunk closed.  "I know you will, it is why I love you."

Thranduil had barely heard the words and he very carefully picked you up, sending orders for the others to hurry back and get a healer ready.  His heart ached as he looked down upon your pale features, almost breaking when you saw you barely breathing.

"I love you too, Y/N."  He spoke to you.

The warmth of his arms was welcoming, the reassuring words in your ear a hope.  You let yourself go limp in his arms, the darkness this time much more welcoming, but the silence still coming followed by Thranduil's words.

You were safe.  Nothing else mattered.