Waltz (lotr fanfic)

My Father

Chapter 6

Footsteps. Footsteps getting further and further away. My eyes fluttered open. Where was Eámanë? I was soaked in my own blood. I heard footsteps again. I closed them again, pretending to be dead, in case they belonged to something terrible. But they were elf footsteps. Not the quick, quiet footsteps of Eámanë, but slightly heavier and slower. "Oh! Oh, no! Prince Legolas!" cried a female voice. "Send for the king and the healers!" I heard quick footsteps, most likely belonging to a child elf. "Oh, Prince Legolas, where is Eámanë?" I mumbled a reply, but I was quickly shushed. Then, the quiet cry of my father's elk indicated their arrival.

"Oh! My son! Not my son!" grieved my father, King Thranduil.

"Your Majesty, he is barely alive, and is in dire need of the healers's attention."

I partially opened my eyes, and saw that the healers had begun to move me onto the carrier. They rushed back to the palace with a small guard and my father.

*******

Pain and grief clouded my father's eyes. We were at a funeral. Considering the fact that elves were immortal, a funeral during usually peaceful years were rare. Tears ran free down my face as I watched some elves lower my mother into the ground. She and a small company had been waylaid by Wild Men while visiting Rivendell, and hating elves, they slew the whole company except for one. He rode his horse into the bush, hoping to find help on time. But it was too late. She lay here, in this very room, dying while my poor father stood sentry over her, refusing to leave her side no matter what. Despite the efforts of the healers, the house of her spirit crumbled, and her immortal life force faded away. She was gone.

*******

As I lay here, with my father by my side, I turned my head and looked at him. He smiled weakly. I examined myself. My torn garments were gone; I wore nothing but a large bandage around my abdomen, covered only by a thin sheet. I started worrying about Eámanë. I tried sitting up, but the pain was so intense I was forced to lay back down. Seeing my effort to sit up, he quickly and gently rearranged my cushions so I was in a position very likely to sitting up.

"We still can't find her..." he stated quietly. "We are trying our best. I've sent out riders with our hounds, hopefully they'll find her..."

"Father, we were attacked by a troop of at least 200, with some 25 wargs. We killed some Orcs, but-" I faltered. It was getting difficult to breathe again. With a cry of concern, Thranduil ordered for a healer. She checked my wound and pressed it gently, but I cried aloud in pain. Thinking I was on death's door, Thranduil took my hand and sobbed into it. I knew he was afraid of losing me, as I was the last of his family. Frêidla, the healer, gave me medicated water. The powerful herb she used knocked me out, to numb the pain. Dreams tormented me, nightmares did worse. Every dream, it's a different setting, yet I was unscathed, Eámanë was taken, but I stood in place watching them take her away. Every nightmare was similar, but they tortured her in front of me, right out of my desperate reach. But I could not wake up.

A/N: I know this chapter is a little boring, but I promise the next one is going to be better! And thanks for reading! Please comment, I like feedback! :)