Disclaimer: Not mine, obviously.

Falling Like the Colored Leaves, Part Three

He had come to reclaim something that belonged to him, and only him. How selfish it was, how foolish? A selfish person Thranduil might be, but he was no fool. Even though much of elvish blood had been spilled, and he was unwilling to sacrifice more of it, this endeavor was not worthless and not without a cause. He had more than one reason to come; killing orcs was an added bonus and his blades had drunk their share greedily.

His son had survived the dragon fire unscathed. Tauriel had not been harmed. They were away from the fighting and knowing this, the Elvenking could breathe more easily.

The supplies for people of Laketown had been delivered and an ally, Bard the Bowman, had been made. The presence of Mirkwood forces had turned the tide of battle – without them, the humans would have been squashed and dwarves wouldn't have lasted much longer. These facts appeased his conscience slightly. It was the right thing to do, wasn't it? Tauriel would have been so excited.

The thought made him shook his head. Now it was time to come home; the two things he treasured the most were not here and Thranduil wanted – needed – to find them and to do that, he needed to live and to stay sane just a little bit longer.

Without slowing he killed the attacking orc effortlessly, but then he stopped short. He was losing his mind, that was for sure, because Thranduil could swear that the she-elf plaguing his thoughts every waking moment was suddenly standing in his way no more than a few feet from him.

He focused, opening his heart, and immediately felt her presence filling it – she was truly there and he was floored.

Thranduil's first impulse was to reach for her, to make sure she was still unharmed. It had been only several days, but the separation had taken its toll on him. He had been used to know where Tauriel was. He had always made certain to be informed of the schedule of her patrols. He knew all her habits – at what time she usually ate, slept, made merry. He knew which places she liked occupy in her free time. He had made a point to always know about her acquaintances and friends.

When the news of Smaug's awakening had arrived, his heart had stopped beating in fear for the lives of his son and this obstinate child. Not knowing precisely where she had been and what she had been doing… it had been agonizing. Not feeling her presence near him had forced the King to close and guard his heart and mind; otherwise he would have tried to reach her, search for her, pointlessly depleting his energy.

His second reaction was agitation – she and Legolas were not supposed to be in the ruins of Dale. He had to take them to safety immediately. Thranduil refused to lose someone dear to him at the hands of orcs; not again.

"You will go no further!" Tauriel spoke then and her voice was hoarse, shaking and so, so angry. "You will not turn away, not this time!"

It was about the dwarf. Would it always be only about the dwarf? Could she not see how unworthy that runt was? Could she not see it was pointless to feel anything for a mortal? Thranduil's temper flared – all the suppressed worries and loses of today and ages past made him choke with rage.

His third reaction was uncontrollable, terrible fury.

"Get out of my way!" The king snarled. In that moment, he hated Tauriel for her unawareness of how effortlessly she affected him – what she had made him feel, how she had made him act.

"The dwarves will be slaughtered…"

"Yes, they will die." He smiled, his otherwise pleasant smile had a nasty cruel taint near the corners of his lips. He was disgusting the elleth and it pleased him to see her shocked and pained.

"Today. Tomorrow." Thranduil grimaced and took a step forward. Then another one and another. He would make her see sense. "One or a hundred years from now. What does it matter? They are mortal."

Tauriel's reaction was a firestorm of anger. She lifted her bow and aimed at him, precisely at his lips which had spitted such poisonous words. The king was taken aback; his mouth opened and closed and he was rendered speechless.

"You think your life is worth more than theirs wherein there's no love in it?" Her hands were steady while her voice was shaking terribly. She articulated slowly: "There is no love in you."

No love in me? Thranduil wanted to laugh right into her face. How wrong the elleth was, and she had no idea. She would never know, never understand how deeply these particular words of hers had cut him. His expression turned to stone and he glanced to the side.

His sword sang in the air, cutting her bow in half. The useless pieces of wood fell from Tauriel's hands, tears filled her eyes and Thranduil pressed the tip of his sword to her throat.

"What do you know of love?" He sneered. He should kill her, and in his state of mind, he would do it at the slightest provocation. "Nothing! What do you feel for that dwarf, is not real!"

Tauriel didn't move, but her ever so expressive eyes told him more than any words could. She loved the dwarf, or she believed she loved him, and his mortality didn't matter to her. It seemed that nothing else but the dwarven prince mattered to her. She would kill for him. Would she die for him, too?

"You think this love? Are you ready to die for it?" It hurt more than Thranduil would have expected, more than he thought possible. What he had been thinking when he had set out for her? To find her, scold her and bring her home? Never, it could never be so…

His sword was pushed down, not that Thranduil had held it with much of strength in the first place. He let his arm fall, turning to meet his son's eyes.

"If you hurt her, you'll have to kill me." Legolas gazed up at him resolutely, so young and so determined, so in love. His son's love for the elleth was different than Thranduil's; it was selfless and pure, whereas the King loved her deeply, obsessively and selfishly.

Thranduil's face crumbled and his shoulders dropped. What had he become?

The Elvenking was unable to watch them go, and unable to stop them. He could not catch his breath for a long moment, lost in his mind – reliving what had just transpired. When Thranduil lifted his head again, both Legolas and Tauriel were gone and he was left there standing alone with only a growing sense of horror and shame.

He had lost them both, and all it took was one moment of blind rage and violent jealousy.

"My… my lord?"

"Yes?" Thranduil pressed his hand to the breastplate of his armor, over the place where his heart was beating madly. He still could not breath, and there was a sudden pain in his chest, unbearable crippling pain driving any other emotion away.

"What are your orders, my king?"

"Clear a part of the city, secure it and gather there the wounded. Tend to them regardless their race. If you encounter any women or children, bring them there also, and keep the place safe." He closed his eyes to blink away the visions of lifeless bodies. "But first of all, do not risk any more of our lives unnecessarily."

"Yes, my lord."

Thranduil waved his commanders away before anyone could ask more questions. It was rather unexpected change of situation. Some hesitated, but all of them eventually disappeared into the depths of the city to carry out their king's orders.

The Elvenking then drew his second blade and weighed both swords in his hands. Slowly, determinedly, he started to move in the direction he assumed the Ravenhill was. Any orc crossing his path was killed without much of a thought. Thranduil focused solely on one thing and one thing only – he had come here to retrieve what was his. He would not lose them – and if he had to hack his way through the whole army of orcs, then so be it.

He moved steadily forward, systematically destroying everything in his way with deadly precision, even though he was almost stopped and overpowered three times. Then the Eagles came rushing from the skies. Thranduil straightened and grimly cleared his blades, sheathing them. Two of the large birds were clearing the vicinity of Ravenhill and he knew his swords would not be needed.

Anxiety filled him and his steps slowed. He was afraid to reach the guard-post, yet he didn't stop moving.

Finding Legolas whole was a miracle – and while his son looked sad and frustrated, Thranduil knew it was due to the disillusionment he felt. Should Tauriel be dead, his son would have been broken and grieving. Should Tauriel be dead, he was certain that he would have felt it in his heart.

The king was not surprised, though, when Legolas announced his intentions. Too much had happened between them, the three of them, for his boy to handle. He could clearly see the regret in his son's face and understood his need to distance himself.

Despite all the harsh words and actions of today, Thranduil still was his father, and he couldn't let Legolas leave without making amends.

"Your mother loved you, Legolas, more than anything. More than life itself." The King assured him. As I do, was left unspoken, but the prince understood, for he nearly turned and then he reached with one hand for his father.

Smiling painfully, Thranduil bowed his head – and then Legolas was gone. For a moment, the King stood motionless, just breathing in and out, calming his racing heart. He had not lost his son entirely, and it brought him a little bit of relief.

After Legolas's silent footsteps vanished, Thranduil caught a sound that frightened him; sobs of someone in unimaginable pain, Tauriel's sobs. He needed not to follow the sounds, he knew where she was and that she was physically unharmed, as he had always know in the past when he had focused on her.

Hesitatingly, he headed towards her, entering the open space filled with light. The King felt like falling again when he laid his eyes on the scene before him: Tauriel was sitting on the ground, leaning over her dwarf. He was her dwarf and Thranduil saw no point in referring to him in any other manner

"They want to bury him."

Gathering all of his strength, Thranduil managed to sound collected. "Yes."

"If this is love, I don't want it. Take it from me, please!" She whispered, more and more tears escaping her eyes. Unconsciously, Thranduil stepped towards her. She loved the dwarf – it was no illusion, not an infatuation or a passing fancy. She loved him and the king would never have a chance. Not that he had ever believed there could be anything between him and the captain, but to know it with certainty, see the evidence with his own eyes…

"Why does it hurt so much?" She wailed.

"Because it was real." It hurts the most when it is real.

Thranduil had been wrong. He should have known that, he should have felt that. Now it was too late to do anything. He would have gladly let her leave, he would have gladly blessed her union with the dwarf, even thought it would have killed him slowly. This – seeing her in such a pain, fearing that she would soon follow the dwarven prince, knowing that she very well might – was the end of him.

The Elvenking stood there – numb, hopeless and helpless – and watched Tauriel kiss her loved one. He felt her heartache; it was joining with his own in an enormous river of sorrow and grief. Then he very slowly and very awkwardly stepped around them and knelt down next to her feet, blocking her from the harsh beams of sunlight. Tauriel glanced at him, her face pale and eyes red, and he simply held her gaze for a moment.

"We shall leave when you are ready." The King slipped off his gauntlet and for the first time ever he touched her cheek briefly. "For now, grieve."

He was not burnt, and he felt no fire when his fingers were seemingly accidentally tangled in Tauriel's hair. In his chest, the pain wouldn't stop throbbing. Thranduil identified the reason what had hurt him so much, and why he could not summon even the slightest sliver of anger, or any emotion except for misery and regret.

Freeing his hand, he turned towards the valley, sat down and watched the sun rising higher and higher, while the elleth behind him wept.

The land below him was barren and cold, there were no trees in sight. He longed to see trees, the trees of his beloved forest realm. He longed to walk beneath their branches and watch the colored leaves fall. This time of the year was beautiful in the heart of his kingdom. Upon his return home, he would visit it. He would lie down on the ground and rest on the fallen leaves.

What is one more to fall? Thranduil smiled tiredly and closed his eyes, a strange sense of calm and peace settling over him. Unbeknownst to Tauriel, she was mourning two deaths of two fools who had loved her fiercely to the very end, and were now laid at her feet.

The Elvenking had started to fade.

Sequel posted: The Vigor of Spring