Kingsfoil [Thranduil] LOTR

Panicked

"Oh, Narylfiel!"  A kind voice exclaimed and a hand reached down to help her up.  Narylfiel pushed her hair away from her eyes and saw Legolas looking  concernedly down at her. She took his hand, and he pulled her up, patted  her head.

"What are you doing up so late?" he asked, glancing down the hall to her room.

Narylfiel  smoothed her rabbit's ears down. "Bun was scared," she said, gesturing  to her rabbit. "He had a horrible dream about twisty vines and spiders."

Legolas  fought down a grin. She was just so sweet looking standing there with  her long hair and little ruffled nightdress. Instead, he nodded  seriously and knelt down beside her. "Did you go knock on our door?"

She looked down at the floor, shook her head 'no.'

"Come  on," he said, and without warning, he scooped her and Bun into his arms  and started to walk down the hall. Much to Narylfiel's surprise, he  passed by her room and continued on to his, opening the door and  bringing her inside with him.

Thaliniel was asleep in  their bed, but Legolas brought Narylfiel over to a stuffed chair by the  fire and sat down with her in his lap. He settled a blanket around the  young elleth's shoulders and told her, "My father used to do this for me  when I had bad dreams."

"You had bad dreams?" Narylfiel asked, finally feeling better now that she was cocooned in his arms with her sister so near.

"I did," Legolas admitted, a little sheepishly. "I used to crawl in bed with my father."

"What about your mother?" Narylfiel asked.

Legolas  gently brushed the hair away from her eyes, tucked the blanket close  around her. "Oh, she was not around very much, but I always knew I could  count on my father to make me feel safe. I thought he was the fiercest  warrior in the forest."

Narylfiel blinked owlishly up at him. "He really is, isn't he?" Admiration rang through her voice.

"Yes, he really is," Legolas agreed, the corners of his mouth curving up.

Narylfiel  leaned her head against his chest. "You're not so bad yourself," she  told him with all the conviction of the very young.

The  next morning Thaliniel found the pair of them still there snuggled  together in the chair, fast asleep, her husband's arms protectively  cradling her little sister. She smiled to herself and let them rest.
. . . . . . . .

November, 3018:

The  room constricted all around him, as if all the air had been sucked out  in one violent exhale, and Thranduil's heart pounded in his ears.

Poison. Mortal. A poison that drains the life of the Eldar.

And in his mind, he saw Narylfiel, her eyes dull, dim. Fading. Dying.

He  could not breathe. He needed some air, needed to get away from the  cloying smells of herbs and poultices in this horrid little room. His  stomach twisted, and he was vaguely aware of Bard calling his name  behind him as the abruptly left the healing chambers, letting the door  slam behind him. He rushed past the guards at the end of the hall and  down the stairwell, to where he had seen a side door. It was guarded  now, of course, but he brushed past the liveried youths and then  finally, gasping, burst into the cold night air, letting it burn his  lungs, his eyes.

The snow still fell, and the Elvenking placed a  hand on the icy side of the stone wall to steady himself. His cheeks  flushed at thought of how he had just fled the healer's room, and  Thranduil tried to gather his thoughts-but there was only one thing he  could think of. He could only think of her. Thranduil exhaled slowly and  wondered. Was this some sort of debt demanded in full by the Valar, and  for what? His pride, his resentment...his anger. Was he not meant to love  or to be loved? He glared at the few pinpricks of light managing to  shine through the low flying clouds and willed the unwelcome thought not  to be true.