**Hello and welcome! Thank you for being here. This is my very first FanFiction so please keep that in mind if there are any issues here, which I am sure they will be, as nothing is ever perfect. But I put a lot of effort and enjoyment into this so I hope it shows. I am not very familiar with Tolkein other than watching the LOTR and Hobbit movies so I apologize in advance for any inaccuracies.**

**Rated T for minor suggestive romantic and sexual themes, minor violence, and slightly gory descriptions.**

**Takes place after Thranduil and his people are pushed into the northern area of the forest and it receives its title of "Mirkwood", but before Legolas was born. If this timing is not correct, I apologize! I have not yet found any kind of date of birth for him in my research.**

Chapter One-Pain

The bells rang out through the halls. They were not the happy victorious bells, but instead merely a quick, single ring. The battle was over. The soldiers had returned.

I took all of my golden hair in my hands and plaited it tightly, out of my face and away from my eyes. Then, I quickly dipped my hands into the basin of water and rubbed them clean with the white soap. I scrapped my nails beneath each other, freeing any dirt that was hiding there. My chest heaved quickly with one deep breath. I was ready.

Hurrying across the room, I met the soldiers at the main entrance of the infirmary hall.

Four elves rushed, each holding one end of makeshift cot created from fabric and branches. Upon the cot laid who I could only recognise as our king.

But he did not appear as the king I caught glimpses of when we happened to pass one another in the hallowed halls of the realm. He wore no crown on this day.

His long hair, lighter gold than mine, nearly white, was matted, tangled and sticking to his forehead with sweat and blood. What was left of his battle amour, an outfit I never seen him in, was dull and dirty, or melted away.

I stared at his face. I had always looked away from that stone cold expression on alabaster skin, carved out cheek bones and strong, yet at the same time, delicate jaw. His dark brow was usually brooding, his green eyes deep and stormy.

But not now. Now half of his face was white a milk, nearly azure beneath the skin, veins in his temple throbbing a deep blue, popping and straining beneath. His eye starred up at the tall ceiling but not really seeing. The blank pupil was tiny, a pin dot, the white of his eye was nearly red. His mouth was open and curved downward, breath quickly pressing in and out.

The other half of his face was completely burned away. From his hair line to the top of his jaw, fire had consumed the skin, muscles, and an entire section of the left cheek, leaving his teeth and inside of his mouth fully exposed. The left eye was completely removed, the blackened socket remained, large and gaping.

The burn continued downwards, softening on his neck to mere redness and then gained strength on his left arm where the skin was black and peeling away, his armour burnt to attachment on his forearm.

"Audriel," the soldier near the king's right shoulder spoke to me, his voice strained and quick, "you must heal our king. The dragon…" There was blood on his worried face.

"I-I've never done anything like this."

"No one else could have any hope of fixing this." He took one hand from the branch and swept it over the king.

"His face is burnt right away…" I entwined my fingers and clenched them together.

"You are the best healer this side of the Misty Mountains. Only Lord Elrond could compete."

"Then perhaps you should be taking him to Lord Elrond."

"There is no time! He is our king. Your mother-"

"I am not my mother! My skills could never match hers." I starred deep into his eyes. "I cannot work miracles on him just because he is our king."

His eyes softened. "Please."

The elf near the king's left foot spoke. "Miss, we haven't time to take him to anyone else, and apart from one other elf, there is no one else to take him to. All I ask," he shot a harsh look at the other elf who had spoken to me, "all we ask, is you try. If only you can keep him alive."

I swallowed and walked from where I stood, to the king's feet. I looked straight on at him. I hunched my shoulders and sighed. "I can only promise you my efforts."

"The best you can do is all we ask."

I nodded. "Bring him to a private room."

They followed me to a few chambers that were held off the hall, leading to where the plants, tools, and medications were stored. I gestured to the first room on the right and the elves carried their king to the edge of the bed.

"Don't put him on the bed yet," I instructed, and then left the room and called for my assistants. Three elves, Meleth, Harn, and Hiril, came rushing to my side.

"The king has been terribly burnt," I told them. "I need the strongest remedies for burns, pain-an aesthesia for certain. Harn," he was one of the few male healers, "I need you to help me lift and place him."

He nodded and the two girls rushed back to mix. I led him to the king's room. At the sight of the king, lying, burnt and barely conscious, Harn's eyes wavered and his skin paled.

I placed a hand on his arm. "If you cannot do this…"

He tightened his jaw. "I will be fine." After pushing a hand through his brown hair, he stepped forward by my side towards the king.

I slapped my hands together and cracked my fingers. "I need to you all to listen carefully," I instructed. "We must move him carefully." I locked eyes on each soldier. I trusted Harn's skills, even when his emotions quivered. The soldiers were no healers. "Burns are the most painful of injuries. He will be in pain when we move him, I want it minimized."

They all nodded at me.

"Now, place the cot on the bed. Good. Now we lift and put him on the bed." I went to the king's head and reached my arms to him. His breath shuddered and his chest heaved beneath the armor. I pressed my hands under the king's head. Slowly gently, I cradled his skull. His breathed sucked deeply, due to pain, I had no doubt. His pain was now in my hands. "I want Harn at his left shoulder, the rest of you each put your hands under him and get ready to lift. Except for you," I pointed to the elf who had spoken to me most. "Take the cot and keep it out of the way."

I watched carefully, my eyes moving from the king to the others. Watching for any sign of too much pain.

The others stayed perfectly quiet and still.

"Are you prepared?"

They nodded. My eyes found Harn's and locked against them. He gave me a single nod. I could feel a breath of the king's on my face.

"Ready? Slowly now. Lift."

Arms and muscles strained, grunts of effort and concentration came from the soldiers. I willed my hands not to shake.

A scream as loud as anything I had ever heard cut through the quiet like a chisel through ice. Hard and sharp. The pupil of the king's single eye tightened and shrank further. His back arched and his hands reached out and gripped whatever they could reach, which on the left was Harn's forearm. The young man's face twisted in discomfort.

"Shhh, shh, shh, shh, shh." I lowered my head closer to the king's, a few strands of my hair that had fallen free brushed his face. I pushed them away from his burns. "Place him on the bed, slowly, quickly."

The elves moved with grace and speed. They placed him on the bed gently and removed their hands. All but Harn stepped away. I asked them to leave.

The king continued to scream. The voice the came from between his lips, and even spread from the place where his cheek had been was like nothing I had ever heard. It was not the voice of the king that I had known, yes I had forgotten what his voice had sounded like, he had never spoken to me nor addressed me other than in a large group, but I knew this was not the voice of the king I had known. It was tortured, strained and pained, pitiful and enough to break even the strongest. My ears had never before heard such a sounds. I had worked in the infirmary for what I had thought was long enough to see everything one could see. Deaths, births, babies taken too soon, lovers separated by harm and grief ridden demises, the passing of those not wanted lost and the want for expiry when it would not come and claim those who no longer truly lived. But this, this was something that was purely tainting my heart which I had thought was turned to stone.

I whipped my head around to face the door and screamed, "I need the anesthesia, now!" I turned back to the room and to Harn. "Cold water, please."

Sweat beaded on his brow. "I can stay and help," he whispered.

"I know. But he needs relief. It's alright. I am not doubting your abilities and strength. Be quick please, I will need you to help me pull the armor off."

With a nod, he hurried off. I put my hands against the side of my head, then whipped my face with my sleeve. I was not the one with my half my face gone.

"My lord." I bent over the king, my face close to his right ear. "It will be over soon. The pain, I mean. I will keep you alive, that is my promise."

In rushed Meleth, jars and canisters in her hands. "I have anesthesia, I hope it is strong enough."

I grabbed it from her, tilted my head to the side, studying the jar. "We shall find out." I poured the amber liquid into a glass vile. "I need someone to hold his head."

Meleth placed the jars down and rushed to the king. She stopped near his head, her eyes quizzical.

"If you can just hold him still enough to get this down his throat."

She gave me a nod and placed her hands carefully, one against his jaw and the other on his forehead.

I gave the liquid in the vile a shake. "Ready?"

She nodded and held fast. I easily opened the king's jaw. It was not difficult to open his mouth as he continued to yell and pant like an animal. What was not easy was keeping him still.

I gritted my teeth together until my gums were pained, trying to steady him with my hand. I decided that some of anesthesia getting into his body was better than none and so I sucked a breath and thrust my hand into his mouth, letting the vile pour the liquid down into the back of his throat.

There were no coughs or swallows. Hands moved away from his face as Harn entered the room.

"I have the cold water."

"Good. I need cloths soaked and it mixed with…" I grabbed the jars from the table on which Meleth had placed them and studied the mixtures she and Hiril had made, "this."

Hiril took it from me and poured it into the bucket while Meleth fetched rags to soak.

"Should he be asleep yet?" Harn asked?

"If not now, soon." I turned back to the king. "Soon."

His screams lessened and became less violent. I took a cloth from the bucket and placed it against his forehead and then against the left side of his face. He let out one last, wrenching scream and lurched under my hand. His eye relaxed, the pupil opening and twitched slightly. It loomed around and seemed, for a moment, to not only be looking, but to see. It stopped on my face. I did not know what to say. I felt I should utter something, but then he fell silent and his eyelid covered his green eye.

**Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed my first chapter and attempt at a FanFiction. Please critique, any suggestions are welcome. I am not an expert on Tolkien and his work and so I apologize for any inconsistencies or mistakes regarding that. This is just for fun and my idea of how Legolas' parents could have met. I don't think this is how they met or anything, I just think this would make a good story for that. More coming soon!**

**The dragon here is what I believe could be what Thranduil references when he says in the Desolation of Smaug, that he knows the wrath and ruin of dragon fire. I have no evidence to support anything, but it is just my guess that he had issues with dragons in his life time before Smaug (maybe that's part of the reason he refuses to fight the dwarves?) and so I'm just kind of going with it here. If there are any issues with that, I apologize and feel free to let me know what you think!**