Chapter Text
Thalion’s breath faltered as he rested his father’s limp body on the bed. It was only now that he was able to properly look at the injuries his father had sustained; there was too much of a rush on the battle field, and a rush to swiftly return Haldir to Mirkwood, to even look properly at the wounds. Thalion frowned at the sight of the deep gashes that were evident through the tears in his father’s clothes - they would need stitching up, for sure.
The door suddenly swung open, and Thalion turned to see his grandmother, Aurelia, and his uncle, Orophin, rush in, Legolas close behind them. Orophin appeared to place a rather large bag down on a nearby chair, hurriedly retrieving the needed items from the back, meanwhile Aurelia advanced towards Haldir’s unconscious form on the bed. “Thank you for carrying him here, Thalion,” she said as she took out some scissors and made a smooth cut down Haldir’s clothes in order to easily access his wounds, “you are no longer needed.”
At that, Thalion was taken aback. “Pardon?” He hissed.
“You can leave now.” Aurelia stated. Thalion frowned. “You expect me to leave my father alone?”
“He won’t be alone. I am here. Orophin is here. You will only get in the way.”
”I am not leaving!” Thalion felt a hand on his shoulder and another rest on his stomach, obviously being held from behind. Whipping his head over his shoulder, he saw it to be Legolas. “Come, Thalion,” he said, leading the younger one out of the room.
Thalion began to writhe in Legolas’ hold, only for the older elf to tighten his grip. “Release me! I demand that you release me!” He cried. “I cannot, Thalion, I apologise. Aurelia needs to work and your father must rest.”
“No! I must be with him! Unhand me!” Legolas winced as the elf in his arms fought harder for his release, eventually pulling him out of the room and pulling the door shut. Soon after, a clicking sound was heard, indicating that someone had locked it from the inside. Thalion immediately broke free from Legolas’ hold, throwing his fists against the door repeatedly as he cried “let me in, let me in! You must open the door! I demand for you to let me in, now!” After a few minutes, he seemed to give up, swinging his heavy booted foot out and kicking the door with a harsh bang, the door beginning to rattle from the impact.
“I understand your frustrations, gwinig, but please do not break down my doors with your heavy boots.” A silky voice rang out from behind. Thalion immediately glowered, still facing the door. King Thranduil, his great-grandfather. He despised his great-grandfather, for he insisted on calling Thalion ‘gwinig’ - he was no longer an elfling, so this nickname was more than insulting!
Slowly turning around with an unimpressed expression, Thalion tilted his head up to look at his great-grandfather. He offered no apology, however, for he did not care if he broke the door down - if anything, Thalion would have favoured that, as he would then be free to enter the room.
“Thalion,” Thranduil began, approaching his great-grandson, “I sympathise with your grief. I understand you wish to be beside your father, but my home does not deserve to bear the brunt of your anger. Aurelia also needs space to work. You would only get in the way, gwinig.” Thalion’s expression was unmoving as he stared up at his elder. Thranduil sighed, there really did not seem to be any way of getting through to this elf. “Your mother and brother are in the library,” the Elvenking continued before turning around to walk away, “they await your arrival.” And with that, Thranduil turned the corner and disappeared.
Immediately directing his look to Legolas, Thalion frowned. “Some help you were, just standing there like a gangly, helpless thing.”
Legolas blinked in confusion. “I beg your pardon?”
“You just let your father tell me off; and for no reason! Screw your oh-so precious doors, my father is in there dying and I can’t even be by his side!” The younger elf sneered as he turned to face the door, giving it a final, heavy kick to emphasise before darting down the corridor, turning the same corner Thranduil had just taken moments before.
Legolas shook his head and sighed.
What a pain.
Thalion disappeared for a while in order to change out of his soiled uniform into some more comfortable clothes, as well as putting on something with a higher collar in order to hide the injuries that spotted his neck. He should probably get them checked. In fact, he should probably get the rest of his wounds checked - he was certain that the deep cut on his arm would need stitches.
That can be sorted later. For now, Thalion approached the large, wooden doors of the library, before coming to a halt. He worried that his mother would be crying, and unfortunately, Thalion was rather useless when it came to tears. He did not want to upset his mother further. Slowly, he approached the closed door and pressed his ear to it; for a while, it seemed rather quiet, only hushed voices were exchanging conversation, when suddenly there was a rather pained howl and an obnoxiously loud blowing of a nose into a handkerchief. Thalion grimaced; his mother was not the type to be so disgustingly loud and impolite. Opening the door and stepping inside, he observed the scene before him, acknowledging how his younger brother had his arms wrapped around his knees as he slowly rocked in front of the fire, one of his hands desperately clutching onto a dirtied handkerchief (Ah, so it was him…), meanwhile his mother was sat on one of the plush chairs, a familiar blanket around her shoulders. The blanket she always shared with Haldir whenever they sat by the fire together.
He quickly brought the collar of his shirt further up his neck in order to mask the wounds from his mother’s eyes. He didn’t need her to worry about him, too. Thalion then advanced into the room, silently making his way to his mother before sitting next to her. He slowly turned to look at her face, frowning upon seeing that her eyes were unfocused as she seemed to stare into the fireplace, the flames dancing with vigour. He noticed how she absentmindedly chewed on her fingernails, noticing that she’d chewed the usually long nail down to half its length.
Thalion shook his head as he reached out, pulling Rhavaniel’s thumb from her mouth. “I am certain that is not a good habit, Naneth.” He said in a rather stern voice. He nearly flinched when Rhavaniel slowly turned to look at him with eyes full of unshed tears, the usually bright yellow-gray irises seeming to have darkened and lost their usual spark, portraying how broken his mother felt at that moment. Thalion was unused to providing comfort of any sort, but despite that, he awkwardly reached out, hesitating before wrapping his arm around his mother’s shoulders, pulling her against him. Rhavaniel immediately melted in her son’s embrace, resting her head on his shoulder as she turned to look at the fire again.
No words needed to be exchanged between them. The hurt was still too near.
“Take this to your mother.”
“I will not.”
“Why not?” Rúmil asked, raising a brow at his nephew, still holding the warm mug out towards him.
“I cannot bear to be in the library a second more,” Thalion explained harshly as he sat down at the table in the kitchen, “my brother’s incessant wailing shall be the end of me. Make me go back there and you shall drive me to my death, Tôrada. Or, perhaps I shall accidentally trip and kick him in the face and accidentally knock him out.”
“Do you wish to stress your mother out more?!”
“No; hence why I shall not re-enter the library until that whining pig has choked himself to unconsciousness on his tears.”
Rúmil groaned as he placed the warm mug down on one of the counters. There really was no getting through to his stubborn nephew - stubborn like Haldir.
…thinking about his brother pulled at Rúmil’s heart strings. He could not bear to think of the agony his older brother was currently in.
Sighing, Rúmil covered the mug in order to keep the heat in, picking it up once more before making his way out of the kitchen. “Fine then. Sit here and wallow in your own sorrows while I take this to your poor mother. It is a special brew, and she will need it to help her sleep tonight.” And with that, he was gone. Thalion scoffed. “Yes, because she is the only one suffering. What about me?” He muttered, pausing for a moment, “…and what about Adar?”
Leaning back in his chair, Thalion stared at the ceiling with a defeated sigh. His mind began to wander, unpleasantly bringing forth the fresh memory of the battle…
Elves, men, orcs, goblins, all on the battlefield. The downpour of the rain muddied the pitch, the raindrops aggressively hammering against all the armour, the metallic drumming harsh in Thalion’s ears. Slash after slash, Thalion skilfully advanced through the fresh wave of orcs that charged towards him, managing to escape with minor injuries. All his training had paid off, it seems, but this was no time to be celebrating. Hurriedly progressing further into the battle, he pressed on, fighting with all he had. However, he could not seem to fight the nausea that began to bubble in his stomach as he saw all of the fallen around him.
All of the death.
He swallowed, trying to suppress the nausea as he fought on, until a rather large orc roughly charged at him, but it soon became clear that it was targeting someone else, as it seemed to almost stampede Thalion, knocking him to the ground in an instant. Thalion cried out at the impact before hitting the floor. He felt rather dazed for a moment, but he quickly recovered as he hurriedly attempted to move to stand in order to slash at the orc. However, he was distracted upon hearing a rather choked cry. He looked up to see the very orc that had trampled him to the ground, was currently holding the arm of someone, positioning it in a manner that seemed to have definitely broken the bone - his father.
Thalion gasped as he moved to wriggle closer to his blade, prepared to pick it up and protect his father, when the orc roughly plunged his blade deep into Haldir.
Haldir’s mouth hung open in a silent cry, his own blades dropping from his grasp as he fell to the floor. Thalion wanted to scream. He wanted to cry out, shout, anything but his throat had completely closed up. He looked at the creature, his chest burning with rage upon seeing the vile smirk on the orc’s face, his black, crooked teeth making the nausea in Thalion’s stomach rise.
Thalion grabbed his sword before scrambling to his feet. His mind was spinning. Too much was happening - without thinking, he cried out, lunging forward with the intention to attack, until the orc reached out and wrapped his hand around Thalion’s neck, lifting the elf from the floor. He could feel the orc’s claw-like nails digging into his throat, feeling them pierce his skin and draw blood. He could feel his vision start to blur, his head spinning faster as a faint feeling began to overcome him.
Suddenly, he was dropped to the ground as the orc’s grip completely loosened and a strangled noise erupted from the creature. Thalion rubbed at his own neck, coughing and spluttering as he looked up to see a familiar blade pierced through the orc’s stomach - his father’s blade, to be exact.
The orc eventually fell to the ground, revealing Haldir barely standing, gripping desperately onto the sword he had just used to pierce the orc with moments before. Haldir stared at his son, unshed tears in his eyes. “You’re safe…” Haldir rasped out as his strength finally gave up, his body falling down into the muddy ground below.
Thalion watched helplessly as his father fell to the ground, awkward wheezing and panting leaving his mouth. His vision blurred slightly as he struggled to maintain the oxygen flow in his body; the orc had had such a strong hold on him, he was surprised his windpipe hadn’t ruptured. Forcing himself to move, he dragged himself through the mud and to his father’s side, immediately resting his hands on Haldir’s shoulders.
“Adar…” he wheezed out hoarsely, “Adar…” He used the last of his strength to roll his father’s body over, the bile rising in his throat upon seeing the deep stab wound and the abnormal positioning of limbs. Thalion felt faint. A deep ringing set into his ears as the world seemed to blur around him once more.
Time slowed down.
Everything had merged into one colour.
Darkness.
Thalion’s hand flew to his throat as he let out some harsh wheezes. He winced upon feeling the dried wounds and blood on his neck. He feared that even after the wounds were fully healed and unnoticeable, the scars would forever remain.
The young elf stood from the kitchen table, wobbly legs leading him to one of the barrels of water. Quickly submerging his hands in the water, he cupped them and brought them to his face, splashing himself with the cool liquid as if it would wash away the memories.
It did not.
He wheezed again as he looked into the water, gazing at his rippled reflection in the movement of the water. He only saw his father. Despite having his mother’s bright, white hair colour, Thalion often heard how he resembled his father.
A wave of sadness washed over him as the water’s movement lessened, the reflection becoming clearer. He did not like that. He frowned as he smacked the water, destroying the reflection into a whirlpool of indecipherable colours. Thalion strode away from the water barrel, moving past the chair he was previously sat on as he made his way out of the kitchen.
At this point, he had little care for anyone else and what they would try to do.
He needed to see his father.