Legolas. Where is Legolas?

Thranduil pushed through the crowds, making his way towards the battlefield. He had just been in the healing tents, looking for information on the whereabouts of his son. No one had seen him.

He must have been wounded. Ai, Valar.

Thranduil sighed and finally made his way out of the mob, which was mostly dirt-covered mortals and their families. It was truly a miracle that they had escaped unscathed. Several of them stared in awe at him as he walked by, but he ignored them, focused on not stepping on any corpses and looking for his son.

There. Poking out from under a pile of dead orcs, a few strands of golden hair lay splayed on the ground.

He shoved the orcs off in disgust quickly, feeling the mounting fear in his heart.

Legolas, Legolas, Legolas! Tithen las-nin!

He finally got the orcs away, and what he saw made his heart stop.

Legolas was lying, pale and lifeless, in a huge pool of blood that stemmed from a deep, messy stab wound to his stomach. He was looking straight at his father, his lips slightly parted.

"Legolas!" Thranduil breathed, dropping to his knees beside his son and hesitating, not knowing where to start. He settled for grasping Legolas's hand in his own.

"Legolas! Legolas!"

He tapped his son's cheek with one hand, feeling the mounting dread.

"Legolas! Wake up! Legolas!"

Legolas didn't respond.

His eyes had not moved.

He was dead.

After a moment, Thranduil let out the most unelven sound, a keening wail that made the mortals and immortals alike jerk their heads to him. Many of the elves paled when they saw the figure next to their king. Heads bowed, and their were soft mummers of "the Prince. The Prince is dead." Some had tears running down their pale faces.

Elrond turned at the sound. Someone was hurt. He rushed towards the battlefield, determined to find out what had caused such a wail of agony.

Thranduil took his son in his arms, pulling him so be was leaning with his back against his chest. He held Legolas tightly around his waist with one arm, and the other stroked his son's bloodstained face gently.

"Tithen las-nin...Tithen las-nin...Tithen las-nin..."

Elrond took a sharp breath when he saw who was sitting in the middle of the battlefield, a limp body in his arms.

Valar, no.

"NO!" Thranduil screamed, the reality crashing on him like a huge, cold wave. His eyes burned as he screamed, his voice raspy. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

"HE WAS ALL I HAD LEFT! HE IS MY EVERYTHING, YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME! THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING!" His voice was contorted with sobs, and he dropped to a whisper. "Please, please...this cannot be happening."

One elf walked away from the group, his face drawn as he forced himself to go towards the camp and break the news to the other elves of the forest. The Prince was well loved. The news would not go down well.

Elrond sat down quietly by the Elvenking's side, his face grieved. A curtain of long, blond hair hid Thranduil's face from view, but he could see Legolas clearly. He felt his tears come as he stared upon the still face. Blood was dripping down his lips and chin onto Thranduil's armor. His eyes were missing he spark they had always held.

Ai, Valar. He is younger than Elladan and Elrohir. Too young.

Elladan's voice rang through his head.

Ada? What is wrong?

Elrond did not reply, finding himself unable to even think the dreaded words. He brought his hands up to his face, feeling them shaking. Elladan's voice came again.

We're coming.

Thranduil looked down at Legolas's pale face, the tears finally coming like a waterfall. His shoulders shuddered, and he buried his face in his son's cold shoulder, screaming and crying and shaking. Sobs wracked his body with force he had never felt before.

Tithen las-nin. Tithen las-nin is dead. Tithen las...

Elladan and Elrohir strode in, their faces in matching grim expressions. Their eyes widened at the same time, the same amount, when they saw, which would have been comical if it weren't for the fact that nothing would be comical again for a long time. Elladan immediately began to sob, burying his face in Elrohir's chest. Elrohir stood, his eyes not going back to their normal size, stock still. He seemed to barely be breathing.

Thranduil didn't see any of them. It was just him and his little leaf, who was covered in far too much blood and was far too cold. The tears ran down his face, and there was nothing else.

Tithen las-nin...

"Ada!" Thranduil jerked upright as if he had been slapped. He looked wildly around.

"Ada! Ada, wake up!"

He sat up in bed, clutching at his own shaking form. He let the tears run unhindered down his cheeks, and he bit back a sob.

"Ada!" Legolas said, taking his father's face in his hands. Thranduil looked at him as if he was seeing a ghost.

"'Twas just a dream, Ada. You're safe now."

Thranduil reached up and touched Legolas's face with one hand, and then he pulled his son painfully tight against his chest.

"Tithen las-nin...Tithen las-nin..."

"Ada? Ada, what is wrong? You are scaring me!" Legolas said after a moment, his words slightly muffled by Thranduil's nightshirt. But it had been a long time since his father had hugged him. He closed his eyes and savored the feeling of the arms around him.

"Tithen las-nin...you are alive...Tithen las-nin..."

"I am here, Ada. Shhhh, I am here."

Eventually, Thranduil's shaking stopped, and he looked exhausted. Legolas reluctantly pulled back from the hug, pushing his father gently back onto the bed.

"It's alright, Ada. Rest now."

"Stay with me," Thranduil pleaded, still thoroughly unsettled by the dream. Legolas gave a small smile and lay down next to his father, curling up slightly as he had done since he was an elfling. One of Thranduil's arms came to hug him close, and the other stroked his hair. Soon Legolas was asleep.

Thranduil followed his son into the world of dreams moments later, still curled around his sleeping form.

A/N: Inspired by this: tumblr post/48440444077/i-dont-think-i-could-live-with-it-fuck-yeah (without any spaces).

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