The Ghost Warrior [Legolas Fan Fic]

Chapter Twelve

Hey everyone, school's out which means more time for writing. Also, I would just like to note that in this chapter, Thranduil isn't really himself which can be accounted for the fact that he lost his wife some years ago and now his son has been taken. Although Legolas isn't dead, the grief is still too near. It is common for most people to feel this helplessness after someone vanishes from their immediate life. That's all I wanted to say. :)

~Zelinith

Sometime later in Imladris...

Elrond hovered worriedly over his daughter, checking her pulse to make sure she was still alive. His mind was still trying to process the fact that yet another elf had deceived them, and that they had been too blind to see the deception right before their eyes.

When Thranduil had come to him, saying that apparently he had been told he was needed for an emergency, Elrond had only given him a confused look and asked him what he meant. The Elven King's eyes had then widened, and he left as quickly as he came. The others had looked at each other for a moment, each with questions in their eyes, and then ran after Thranduil because clearly something was wrong.

By the time they caught up to Thranduil, they realized that whatever had happened, they were already too late.

Thranduil was frozen outside the door to his son's healing room, a hand placed on the broken door knob. He had looked at them, fear flashing across his face. When he finally turned back and began to push the door open, it creaked on broken hinges, stuttering as it swung into the room. The sight that greeted them was one that they would never forget.

The first thing they noticed was the disarray of the sheets on the bed and the missing occupant. Almost immediately gazes landed upon the crumpled form of Arwen in the bedside chair. As they entered the room, a knife on the ground was noticed along with the window that was still open. Now, they were all in various positions, busying themselves with different things.

Elrond continued to check his daughter over, coming to the conclusion that some type of inhalant was used to knock her out. While he was readjusting her position within the chair, he saw Mithrandir in the corner of his eye, bending down slowly.

The wizard had found a damp cloth tossed aside, partially visible underneath the cabinetry along the wall. He bent down, poking it with his staff first before drawing it closer within his reach. Picking it up, he brought it close to his nose to sniff the contents, drawing back when the smell hit him head on.

He then slowly made his way back into a standing position before walking over to where Elrond is finishing his readjustment of Arwen. Silently, he hands over the cloth, seeing the thanks with the Lord's eyes.

Turning around, he looks over towards the other occupants of the room, noting that Erestor was quietly walking out the door. His face was grim and determined.

Glorfindel, Mithrandir watched, was inspecting the knife he had picked up off the ground along with the window that was left ajar. He was leaning out of the window, eyes scrutinizing everything outside the room.

The Balrog Slayer shook his head and then straightened, closing the window tightly and latching the lock. He turned and set the knife on a nearby counter, making his way over to Elrond.

Out of the corner of his eye, Mithrandir watched as Celebrain slowly walked over to the immobile Thranduil, gently sitting down on the bed next to him. She was clearly nervous and worried, playing with her hands in her lap. After a moment's hesitation, she finally reached out a hand and grasped Thranduil's larger one, pulling it away from the white knuckle hold he had had on the letter found on his son's pillow.

Celebrain murmured something quietly to the King, soothingly patting his hand. Worry was evident on her face and she continued to speak softly to him.

For his part, Thranduil had been a completely different person since they had walked in.

Lines of grief and worry marked the otherwise ageless face while a murderous gleam flashed within his eyes. He hadn't spoken a word since he sat down on the bed, picking up the letter left on the pillow. Thranduil was terrified, though he wouldn't show it, and wanted nothing more than to take back everything that had happened within the last ten minutes.

Guilt ate at him, the same kind that had threatened to destroy him when his wife had been murdered. He felt that it was his fault his son had been taken – he hadn't been there when his little Greenleaf had needed him most. And now, he was likely far out of reach.

As he sat there in his grief and melancholy, Mithrandir decided that enough was enough. It hadn't been that long since the elfling was taken, so there was still a shot of catching up to the Ghost Warrior and their little Prince.

"Thranduil." Mithrandir said almost curtly, forcing the King's bowed head to rise. The eyes that looked into the wizards were hollow and guilt-ridden, seeming to have already lost hope.

"Your son could not have gotten that far in such a short amount of time." He said. "Send out riders, call for aid from the trees, but do not give up hope already before you have done anything. This is not the same as it was for your wife; Legolas is still alive."

Thranduil continued to look at Mithrandir, emotions waging inside of himself. He was supposed to be the strong, formidable Elven King, but at the moment he was just a simple elf, lost about what needed to be done.

"I will go organize the scouts, and inform the twins of what has happened. They will want to be here for this." Glorfindel said, walking towards the door.

Mithrandir nodded. "Good."

Thranduil watched as the others took charge, organizing plans and giving out orders, but he was frozen, unable to move. A single tear rolled down his cheek and he felt Celebrian squeeze his hand.

"Do not lose hope, Thranduil." She said softly. "Legolas is strong, and he will not be lost in their hands. We will get him back, mellon-nin, I promise you that."

The Elven King looked at her sadly, grief consuming his mind. He knew he had to push it aside, he knew there was a chance to save his son unlike there had been for his wife, but it was hard. Hard to move it to the back of his mind and focus on his son's life. Hard to find the faith and courage to do this.

Really, he just needed a wake-up call. Something to set the fire raging inside of him alight and make him chase down those who threatened his precious Greenleaf's life.

As he opened his mouth to speak to Celebrian, a sudden knock on the door caused him to pause. Everyone glanced at the door, wondering who would be knocking on the door at this time. Those who had been in here originally would never have bothered, and instead have just walked in.

At Elrond's word of "Enter," the door opened to reveal Erestor and two other figures standing behind him.

The Lord and Lady of Lothlorien had arrived.