Wrath and ruin

Thranduil woke, feeling confused. Confused as to where he was, as to what had happened. All he could remember was the fire. The bright red light, the searing heat, the smoke… The King wanted to scream, to jump up and grab his sword and fight the darkness, but his body wouldn't work. He could feel something, like the shadow of some terrible pain, but it was just that, a shadow. He wanted to open his eyes, to jump up and to call for aid, but he could not move. Was he dead? Was this death? He panicked.

"Thranduil?" a voice asked. He knew that voice, but couldn't place it. A hand took his own, and another hand was placed on his forehead. He felt relief surge through his body. Someone else was here. He was not alone. The hands were warm and the voice gentle. He felt so terribly cold. "I'm going to run my hand down your face," the comforting voice said. "Then you will open your eyes and try to focus on me. It may be difficult at first. Do not try to speak. You are in the Greenwood Halls, in your home. You are hurt, but you are healing. Now."

Thranduil felt the hand run gently down his face. He opened his eyes and tried to focus on the figure. It was harder than he had expected. The King blinked a few times and gripped the hand holding his for strength. Slowly, the face of Lord Elrond came into focus, but Thranduil knew something was still wrong.

"Hello," Lord Elrond forced a small smile; "I suppose you are noticing that you have no vision in your left eye. Do not worry about that. It has been the least of my worries. You are much stronger than any of us imagined, and I mean that entirely as a compliment. Seldom have I seen anyone cling to life in such a way when you could have so easily slipped away. There is much of the Eldar in you for which I am most grateful."

Thranduil stared at Elrond through his good eye, taking in everything the healer was saying. His mind seemed to be working fine as the great healer's words were making sense, for which he was thankful.

"Now," Lord Elrond continued, also aware that the King could understanding him. "The worst of your injuries are to your face, which was unprotected from the dragon fire by your helmet or armour, followed by your left arm, which, judging by the damage, you held up to the dragon flame to try and protect yourself. There is also damage to your neck and upper left thigh. You also inhaled enough smoke to kill a battalion of men, as no doubt you have noticed that it is rather hard to breathe. But fear not, for you are well on the mend already. You are awake, after all."

Thranduil squeezed Elrond's hand as hard as he could, trying to control his ragged breathing. Now that Lord Elrond had pointed it out to him, Thranduil realised what a struggle it was to take each breath, with each one being shallow and gasping, his chest making an unpleasant rattling sound. He opened his lips and tried to speak. Lord Elrond let go of his hand and picked a goblet up off the bedside table, putting it to the King's lips. Thranduil drank, trying to swallow despite the pain in his throat and chest, but dribble most of the water down his chin. Elrond put the goblet down, and gently wiped the King's mouth. Thranduil grabbed the Lord of Imladris's arm, and noticed how weak the grasp was. "Why?" he croaked. If all Lord Elrond had told him was true, if he was that injured, why had he survived? Why had Elrond bothered to save him? Why not save others? Were there others injured? Where was Legolas? Had his son seen him like this? Had they been victorious? Had many lives been lost after his sacrifice? Why had he been brought straight back to the Greenwood? Why had he not been killed where he stood?

"You are the King of the Woodland Realm." Lord Elrond said, "These things shall pass, but we will endure as we have in the past and shall continue to do until we are called across the seas."

Thranduil wanted to tell Lord Elrond that that was not an answer at all, but he did not have the strength. Half of his body he could not feel at all, and the other half felt as though it were made of jelly. There was something he wanted to know more. "Legolas…"

"I have spoken to him. He is eager to see you, which, now that you are awake, he may. Worry not about the kingdom, for it is in very good hands. Sleep now, for the more you sleep, the quicker you shall heal."

Despite still having many questions he wished to be answered, Thranduil suddenly felt incredibly drowsy. He closed his eyes and his mind filled with dreams of starlight and music, a million miles away from the dragon flames that had plagued his mind of late.