Sorry for the delay, but this turned out to be longer than I had anticipated. So, first off, it's not happy, like some have requested... sorry. Happier ones will be in the future! This is kind of a continuation of chapter 5, though it certainly isn't necessary to read that. So please, let me know what you think!

DISCLAIMER: Tolkien is a genius. I am not. Only Thalion is mine.

Chapter 6: Opened eyes

Thranduil sighed and stared moodily at the papers on his desk. He had been tense lately and his mind frequently wandered away from the task at hand. When he examined his thoughts more closely, he always found them to reside with his sons. Thalion was safe at home, busy with his duties as the Crown Prince. Legolas however, was currently leading a patrol in the dangerous south by Dol Guldur.

Thranduil growled in frustration and stood from his desk, walking to the window. He could not help worry when either of his sons were in potential danger, experienced warriors though they were.

His eyes roamed aimlessly over the open fields before him to the forest on the edge of the clearings. He narrowed his eyes as he detected sluggish movement within the trees. Then his eyes widened and his heart flew to his throat as he watched what emerged.

The remains of the southern patrol were returning, every one of them bruised and battered. The few that could walk were supporting other elves with their remaining strength. Every face was pale with fatigue, their clothes bloodied and torn. One of the last elves to emerge from the trees, obviously the self-appointed rear guard was Legolas supporting his unconscious second-in-command.

Thranduil ran from the room, calling for the healers and servants as he went. He burst outside, nearly the entire household on his heels. Outside, many warriors had already assembled to help the returned patrol. Thalion had arrived moments before Thranduil and was attempting to get some order back. He had not yet seen his little brother among the crowd.

A healer ran forward and took the ailing warrior from Legolas' arms. When Thranduil drew closer, he tried not to cry out when he got a good look at his youngest son. His face was pale and lined with the strain of the journey. A large cut on his forehead still trickled blood which matted his once golden hair together. His clothes were a deep red, no longer green. They were torn in more than one place, but Legolas drew his dirty cloak around himself to hide his wounds.

Once the healer stepped away from Legolas, he raised a trembling hand to his heart. Legolas began to bow, but thought better of it as he staggered. "My lord," he began weakly.

Thranduil only barely restrained himself from running forward and crushing his child to him. Legolas may be trying to maintain formalities, but he no longer cared for such things. He took a step closer, "Legolas-"

Legolas rose his hand to wave him away. "I'm fine," he said. He blinked drowsily and began to speak. "We were besieged by a squadron of orcs and wargs. I ordered -"Legolas cut off as coughs racked his body. A small trickle of blood leaked out of the side of his mouth. With agonizing slowness, his legs folded beneath him, his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he collapsed.

Thranduil cried out in alarm and caught Legolas before he could hit the ground. With dismay, he pushed away the cloak and tunic to inspect his son's torso. Several deep slashes coated Legolas' chest and stomach, all of which still bled. An arrowhead was imbedded in his chest, obviously having pierced a lung with its force. Legolas had undoubtedly put the safety of his patrol before his own health and had made his own wounds worse in the process.

Thranduil tried to force himself not to panic, but he could almost feel his son slipping away from him, the blood loss being too much to bear. Swiftly, he rose with his dying son in his arms and rushed to the healer's room, calling for aid as he went.

Once inside, he gently set Legolas down on one of the tables. As carefully as he could, he assisted the healers in divesting the prince of his clothes so they could better clean the wounds. Soon, every inch of pale, bloodied skin was revealed and Thranduil felt a murderous rage well up within him. He would destroy whoever had done this to his youngest son, to his Greenleaf.

"My lord," said one of the healer's hesitantly. "Please, wait outside. We will work easier if you are not hovering over us."

Thranduil threw one last look at his motionless child, being attended to by the most skilled healers in the realm. He backed out of the room, almost fearing that each look at Legolas would be his last. The healer gently closed the door once the Elvenking had left the room, leaving Thranduil to close his eyes and rest his forehead against the cool wood.

"Ada?" Thranduil turned to see Thalion standing behind him, fear in his eyes. "Is Legolas – ?"

Thranduil shook his head quickly. "No, no, he is alive. He is not well though. He lost a great deal of blood and he made his injuries worse when he forced himself to travel. It may be a while before we know anything." He sighed and pulled his eldest son over to a bench across the hall, seating themselves in it. "How is the rest of the patrol?"

Thalion sighed. "Not well. All are wounded in some way, some worse than others. Some have died from the attack."

Thranduil closed his eyes and leaned forward, resting his head in his hands. Despair drifted over him at the loss of life, a grief that may extend to his son as well. Involuntarily, his mind drifted back to a time when a small little Greenleaf reminded him of why they fought, to protect the innocence that could still be found in even the darkest of places. He smiled as he thought of the small hand wiping away his tears. His son had always put others before him, even at a young age.

Thalion anxiously watched the door to the healer's room, wishing for some news. He could not stand to know that his little brother was in pain of any kind. Legolas may be an experienced warrior, indeed, the finest archer Mirkwood had to offer, but to Thalion he was still his baby brother that craved bedtime stories.

After what felt like an eternity, the healer opened the door and slipped out, quietly closing it behind him. Thranduil and Thalion both leapt to their feet, apprehension filling them.

The healer smiled gently. "He will live," he said simply, watching as both nearly sagged with relief. He waited a moment before continuing. "He suffered a great deal of blood loss, which has made him very weak. His worse injury was a punctured lung, which we have taken care of. He suffered no broken bones, only very deep cuts and heavy bruising." He waited while the two members of the Royal Family finally began to breathe again, truly realizing that the youngest would live. Everyone in Mirkwood shared their joy for the youngest prince was dearly loved.

"Can we see him?" asked Thranduil urgently, ready to push through to the doors.

The healer placed a hand on the Elvenking's chest, stilling him. "In one moment, my lord. You must know that while he will live, he will be very weak at first. He tried to protect his entire patrol on the way back, such stress was not good for his body or his mind. He will need sufficient time to recover from his injuries, including that to his mind."

"His mind?" Thranduil asked, alarmed.

The healer nodded. "I believe this is the first time Prince Legolas has lost someone in his patrol?"

Thranduil closed his eyes. He had not thought of that. Legolas would be quick to blame himself, though it was no fault of his. He nodded to show that he understood. "Of course. Now, may I please see my son?"

The healer nodded and opened the door, allowing the two elves into the room. Thranduil and Thalion approached and each went to a separate side of the bed. They were clearly distraught over the sight that greeted them.

Legolas lay unmoving on the bed, his eyes closed in unconsciousness. The sheet was folded at his waist, exposing his torso to the air. His entire chest and stomach were wrapped in heavy bandages, leaving little skin visible. What was visible was either white or colored with ugly bruises. His head was also bandaged, though that did not stop the elves from noticing the skin was deathly pale. Someone had taken the time to wash the blood out of his hair, something all were thankful for.

Thranduil sat heavily in the chair placed at the side of the bed. Even with the reassurance that his son would live, he still felt the blow that came from seeing his wounded child.

A discreet cough sounded at the door. Thalion raised his eyes from the bed to see one of the advisors standing there, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. Thalion noticed that his father had apparently not even heard the advisor, so focused was he on Legolas. With a sigh, the Crown Prince of Mirkwood left to attend to the business of the court; he could handle whatever arose the next few days and let Thranduil sit with Legolas.

For the rest of the day and well into the night Thranduil sat at his son's side. He silently helped the healers change the bandages when the time came, not wanting to miss his son waking. He knew that Thalion had left to take care of matters and never had he been more grateful for his eldest child.

He was reading a book by firelight late in the night when Legolas first showed signs of waking. Thranduil abruptly closed the book and leaned forward expectantly. "Greenleaf?" he asked quietly, reached forward to smooth some tousled hair away.

Legolas shifted and winced, a small whimper leaving him. He cracked open his eyes to see his father next to him, worry in his eyes. "Ada?" Legolas asked. He tried to sit up but immediately abandoned the task when pain raced through his body.

"Easy Legolas," admonished Thranduil, pushing his son back against the pillows. "You have only just survived, do not do anything to harm yourself further."

"Survived?" asked Legolas confused, not sure what his father was talking about. Then the memory of the desperate battle with the orcs and wargs returned to him and he gasped. "My patrol!" he shouted, ready to leap out of bed.

Thranduil swiftly prevented Legolas from moving, knowing his own child well enough to know how he would react. "Do not move!" he commanded. He only let up when he saw that Legolas was settling down, though his muscles remained tense.

"What happened to my patrol?" Legolas asked, almost fearing the answer.

"They have all made it back," answered Thranduil carefully. He did not wish to put this burden on his son's shoulders, but he felt that Legolas should deal with the situation while he was here to help. "Many were wounded and several have fallen though."

Legolas closed his eyes. "How many?"

Thranduil sighed. "Six."

An expression of deep anguish crossed Legolas' face. Legolas tried to hold back his tears. Because of him, six elves were dead. It was all his fault.

"Do not blame yourself," said Thranduil quietly, observing his son sadly.

"How can I not?" he asked, unable to keep his voice from wavering. "It is my fault. Were it not for me, they would be alive right now." Tears streamed down his face and he brought up his hands to cover them.

Thranduil was immediately sitting on the bed and lifted his son into his arms as gently as he could, cradling the injured body against him. Legolas leaned into his father's embrace, trying to come to terms with the despair that swept over him. "That is not true, Greenleaf," Thranduil said quietly, unconsciously rocking his son. "More would have died had you not been there. Any other would have acted the same way you had. It is because of you that everyone has returned. It is because of you that more did not lose their lives."

Legolas shook his head. "I should have died in their place."

Thranduil's heart clenched and he pulled Legolas away from him slightly, enough so that he could see his son's face. "Listen to me Greenleaf," he said sternly, his voice showing his distress. "Do not say such a thing. You and your brother are more precious to me than all of Arda and if anything were to happen to either of you, I could not live. What has happened is a grievous thing, of course, for valiant warriors lost their lives. But do not let your grief consume you, for it was no fault of yours. Are you listening to me Legolas?"

Legolas raised his eyes to meet his father's and nodded. With a sigh, Thranduil hugged his son to him one last time before laying him back down on the bed. "Good. Now you need to sleep more. You have given me quite a fright my son."

Legolas managed a weak smile, his mind already drifting toward sleep. "Sorry Ada. I never mean to worry you."

"I know Greenleaf," Thranduil replied. He leaned down and kissed his son's forehead. Legolas sighed and drifted off to sleep.

Thranduil stayed for several more long moments, simply watching his son sleep. He could not bear the thought of losing either of his children and this episode had reminded him of that. Legolas' recovery would be painful, but he was simply happy his son was still with him.

Standing, he stretched and moved to the door, motioning for a guard to take his place, determined that his son not be alone. For now, Thranduil knew he had to relieve his eldest of the responsibilities that he had taken on. Looking back to the bed, he took note of his son and his opened eyes, showing that he rested peacefully. A small smile graced Thranduil's face as he left the room, happy that his little Greenleaf was now safe.