The Ghost Warrior [Legolas Fan Fic]

Chapter Eleven

Um, hi... sorry in advance... but hey, at least its long...

~Zelinith

The following morning...

Thranduil sat on his son's bed, leaning against the headboard with a book in his hand. However, he wasn't actually processing what his eyes were seeing on the page. Instead, his mind was running at full speed, practically working overtime. He was worried, desperately worried about his son, though he was reluctant to show it.

Before dawn had graced the land, Legolas had woken up in extreme pain, crying tears as he held onto his father with a death grip, wanting his Ada to take all the pain away. Thranduil had been forced to call on Elrond, pleading with his eyes for something to help his Greenleaf. They had ended up giving Legolas a pain draught along with sleeping herbs so he would remain asleep for many hours into the next day.

Now it was three hours past dawn, and Imladris had woken to yet another panic. The guard that had been posted were alerted to some disturbance on the outskirts of the haven and had gone to investigate. It had put all the elves and wizard on high alert, making them cautious and wary.

At this point, anything was possible.

But to Thranduil, his main concern was on the welfare of his son. There still was no guaranteed hope that Legolas would survive his injuries, but it was looking slightly better. As Elrond said, healing would only come with rest and time. However, the Elven King was not known to be very patient.

A soft knock on the door drew Thranduil out of his musings. He answered, telling whoever it was that they could come in (he was prepared if it was in fact someone not to be trusted).

The door opened to reveal Arwen, bearing a tray of fruits and breads along with two cups for tea. She smiled at Thranduil, closing the door behind her with her foot. Walking over to where he sat next to Legolas, Arwen carefully lowered the tray onto the bedside table, drawing over a nearby chair to sit in. Once she was comfortable, she gazed at the fragile little Prince, wondering how the Valar could let anything like this happen to the sweet little elfling. She mentally shook herself, glancing back up towards the King, only to see a knowing feeling in his eyes.

"Good morning." She said softly. "I had a thought that you had most likely not broken your fast as of yet, so I decided that we could do so together."

Thranduil smiled at Elrond's daughter, knowing that her heart knew no bounds in its selflessness.

"That is very much appreciated." He responded, a soft sigh soon following. He gazed down at his son, a sadness entering his eyes. "I did not wish to leave him and instead became lost in my musings I am afraid. But it is nice to know that you thought of little old me."

She grinned at him. "But of course, o' Mighty Elven King. Who could ever dare to forget you?"

They stared at one another for a moment, Arwen's tease hanging in the air. Thranduil broke that silence with his laughter, smiling at the humor found in the Evenstar's words. She followed suit, giggling into her hands.

It was said that Thranduil was fearsome and icy, his heart cold and without mercy. But to those who had gotten to know Thranduil over the years understood that that was not the case. He was actually quite warm in a sense, and wasn't always grumpy and filled with thoughts of jewels. Over the years, Arwen had been the main elf to tease Thranduil about his "mightiness" and "power." He certainly had these, but not in a cruel way. And if she ever had need to make the Elven King laugh, she always resorted to these little remarks which was only ever said in good humor.