I know, I know, I should really be working on my Naruto fic. But I've been in an absolutely wonderful Tolkien stupor since seeing BoFA last week, and I couldn't help myself. Also, I disliked Tauriel so much that I wanted to put her through a little mental anguish and get a little more Thranduil-Legolas interaction.

I am a little nervous about posting this; I'm not sure I captured the right tone I was going for and I definitely am not so happy with the ending. Any constructive criticism is greatly appreciated!

Disclaimer: These are my mere mortal's musings on the characters created by the stupendous Tolkien and reinterpreted by the one and only Peter Jackson.

"Captain."

Tauriel did not move, frozen in pain and grief. Kili...

"Captain, where is your prince?"

The sharp voice of her king penetrated Tauriel's daze like a light in the dark of night, and she raised her head. Thranduil stood over her, his ageless face hard and calm, though in his eyes she could see a flicker of something she had never in all her years associated with the Mirkwood king: fear.

And then he spoke again, his voice tight with choking emotion, and suddenly Thranduil was naught but a father standing lost on the battlefield. "Where is my son?"

Tauriel blinked and the consequences of her actions suddenly came crashing down on her like a wave against the rocks. Legolas had done nothing but go against his king- his father- for her since the dwarves first stepped foot in Mirkwood. He had left his homeland behind and followed her into a fight that they had little hope of winning. And what had she done for him, but carelessly cast him aside, leaving him to fight alone against the enemies she had insisted on pursuing.

In a word, she had failed in her duty as Captain of the Guard. Her role was to protect Mirkwood and its royal family, and she had forsaken all of that for a single dwarfling whom she she barely knew. For a dwarfling several lifetimes her younger who, in the midst of orc poison-induced fever, believed that he loved her.

Tauriel's ears burned with a red hot flush and she hung her head in shame. She opened her mouth to answer her King, but the words seemed to get stuck in her throat. When she finally managed to expel them, her voice was no more than a croak. "I-I know not, my Lord."

With a violent fluttering of robes, Thranduil strode away from his Captain, breathing deeply to quell the murderous rage that made his fingers itch to teach the ungrateful elleth a lesson or two about loyalty. Now was not the time; he would worry about her punishment after he had confirmed for himself that his son was alive and whole.

Following the strange tug in his chest, Thranduil moved around the side of the tower to what looked like the remains of either a bridge or fallen building. It was still crumbling in the middle and the king took extra care to walk lightly out onto the destroyed structure. He peered down at the sharp, snowy drop below at the large Orc buried beneath the remains of the stone structure, unmoving and very clearly dead. A few feet from the beast lay a distinctly Elvish figure, a head of white-gold hair pillowed on one awkwardly twisted limb.

For a moment, time stood still and Thranduil thought his own chest might just crack open in pain. There was no mistaking that body.

"Legolas!"

Tauriel's head snapped up at her king's sudden cry, and she could hear his booted feet hurrying down from the tower to the snowy landscape below. Reluctantly releasing Kili's body with a final delicate kiss, the she-elf rose shakily and followed.

She caught up with the Mirkwood king as he knelt cautiously beside his fallen son, brushing his flowing locks away from his pale face. Luckily there was not much blood; a long gash at Leoglas' temple oozed the bright red liquid lazily, but even from a distance Tauriel could see the wound wasn't life threatening. Still, the prince's face was pinched with discomfort, his bow arm hanging slackly out of its socket at an unnatural angle. She knew not if he suffered any internal injuries but what she could see was troubling enough.

Thranduil's voice was soft as he lifted his son and leaned the young elf back against his broad chest before running a gentle hand over Legolas' pale face. "Ion-nin, open your eyes."

With a sudden hitching breath, Legolas's eyelids fluttered briefly before his face became a grimace and he groaned. The sound was soft and far more controlled than the men and dwarves Tauriel could hear screaming in pain on the field below, but that the prince made any noise at all spoke to the severity of his injuries.

The captain watched as Thranduil clasped one of Legolas' hands in his own, stroking the head of tangled hair as though his son were still an elfling of not yet one hundred winters. His voice was soft and Tauriel turned away slightly, feeling as though she were intruding on an intimate moment. "That's it, 'las, come back to me."

Legolas' eyes fluttered once more and though they were still a bit glassy and dazed, he managed to look up and focus on his father. "Adar?"

Tauriel's heart broke anew at how weak and disoriented her prince sounded and she cursed herself silently for letting such a pure young elf fight on his own.

"I am here, ion-nin." Thranduil's low voice rumbled in his chest as he released his son's hand to gently prod at his body, seeking any hidden injuries. "Do not move yet. The battle is over."

There was another hitch of breath as the king pressed down gently on Legolas' ribs. "T-Tauriel?"

The captain moved before she realized what she was doing, sinking to the snow beside the royal family without her usual grace. She reached out to clasp Legolas' uninjured arm, but drew her hand back hesitantly. "I am here, my Lord."

Pain-dulled blue eyes sought her and looked over her searchingly. "Are you well? I saw you fall..."

Tauriel forced herself to swallow around the massive lump in her throat. How could he still care? She had brought him nothing but trouble and pain; she was not worthy of his concern. "I am well, my Prince. You, on the other hand, were not so lucky."

Legolas opened his mouth to retort but instead let out a short cry as his father's practiced hands ghosted over his injured shoulder. The young archer arched away from the touch, panting out a breath in an attempt to ease the pain. "Daro, Adar! That is-"

"This is your bow arm, I know," Thranduil answered sharply, his brow furrowed in concern. "Your shoulder is dislocated and it would seem that the arm is broken as well. We will have to set this quickly or you will risk losing use of the arm."

There was a flicker of fear in Legolas's eyes before he closed them in silent acceptance of his father's diagnosis. Tauriel stood jerkily, realizing the serious implications of the prince's injuries. "I will return to the city and retrieve a healer."

"No." The single, harsh word stopped the captain in her tracks. Still curled protectively around his only son, Thranduil's mask was back in place, his face impassive and eyes hard. He looked her up and down appraisingly. "Captain, I trust you remember your medical training better than the scope of your duties."

Tauriel gave a short nod, eying the king in confusion. She didn't understand. Thranduil's ice-blue gaze only left her briefly to flick down to Legolas. "I would have you set the prince's shoulder."

The she-elf actually flinched at the suggestion, recognizing this was part of her punishment. Surely there would be more to pay when they returned to Mirkwood, but for now the worst thing Thranduil could do was to make his Captain of the Guard inflict pain on the very elf she was supposed to protect, to make Tauriel put her hands on Legolas and feel his body tense with agony. She must very literally face the consequences of her actions. Tauriel wanted to protest, to claim lack of skill, but knew it would be in vain. After hundreds of years as a warrior of Mirkwood, she had long ago mastered field medicine and a dislocated shoulder was not the worst injury she knew how to treat.

Besides, she seemed to have left her will to resist back with Kili's cooling body.

Pressing her lips together in a grim line, Tauriel came to kneel on the side of Legolas' injured arm. Running a hand lightly over the whole limb, she sensed the broken bone beneath a well-formed bicep, the slight swelling around the shoulder socket. She murmured quiet words of encouragement before gripping Legolas' arm firmly at the wrist and just under the elbow. She was vaguely aware of Thranduil's arm wrapping around the front of his son's chest in a firm hold before she forcefully manipulated the arm up and inwards with a resounding crack.

Legolas started sharply at the sudden move, giving a strangled cry despite himself and trying to jerk away from the source of the pain. In doing so he tried to bring his arm closer to his body, but the movement jostled the broken bone and dark spots danced across his vision as he felt the two rough ends grate together. Breathing harshly through clenched teeth, the prince sank back against his father's chest.

Tauriel clenched her own jaw tightly against the rising nausea in her throat, instead reaching down to rip a strip of the lining from her own overskirts. Grabbing a discarded arrow from nearby, she snapped it into two relatively even sized pieces before stripping off the fletching and arrowhead. Feeling along the break again, Tauriel was relieved to find that although there was a clear break, the bone hadn't seemed to shift out of position at all. She pressed the two makeshift splints against the arm before wrapping it tightly with the strip of relatively clean cloth.

The captain strove to ignore the prince as she worked, but she couldn't deny that she felt the way his body tensed almost imperceptibly with each breath, the slight trembling of his entire frame as she worked quickly to bind his damaged arm. Legolas made not another sound, but Tauriel felt each shallow gasp for air like a stab in her own heart. She had known he was prone to reckless behavior in a fight and would rather die than back down from a challenge, outmatched or not. Oh, why hadn't she stayed at his side?

So worried was the she-elf that she almost failed to noticed that Legolas' already pale face lost even more color as he shifted uncomfortably in his father's grasp. "Legolas?"

The prince's breathing took on a rasping quality, becoming shorter and more shallow. Thranduil threw a thunderous and yet concerned look at his captain before easing off on his hold around Legolas' chest. "Ion-nin? Can you breathe?"

Legolas gave a small shake of his head, seemingly unwilling to waste any breath to respond verbally. Looking briefly to her king for permission, Tauriel hastily began loosening the fastenings of the prince's jerkin and pulling them open to get a look at his chest. She hissed as she caught a glimpse of dark green and purple bruising running across the smooth expanse of Legolas' chest. The captain ran her hands down his abdomen, feeling through the fabric of the garment carefully and noted at least one freely shifting rib.

"My Lord, you have," Tauriel paused, against fighting off the rising guilt, "at least one broken rib. It's putting pressure on your lungs and making it difficult to breathe."

Legolas nodded in understanding, but both the captain and her king noticed that he did not seem particularly surprised. Holding his son more upright as Tauriel wrapped the bruised torso in more strips from her cloak, Thranduil frowned deeply. "This was not caused by the fall."

"No," Legolas breathed, his breath hitching as Tauriel pulled the bindings tight. "Bolg and I met before… in Lake Town."

Tauriel froze in her ministrations, worrying at her lip as a wave of guilt like none-before crashed over her. She hadn't even been aware that Bolg himself had been involved in the attack on the dwarves while they were in Lake Town. Once she had found the wounded Kili, she had slayed the Orcs in her immediate vicinity and thought no more of possible reinforcements. Legolas, of course, had never been one to leave a hunt unfinished and so had he set off on his own, intent on hunting down the Orcs who escaped his father's land. Tauriel had never once wasted another thought on the prince, on her sworn duty to protect him as an extension of the Kingdom of Mirkwood. He was a warrior in his own right; surely she could spend her energy where it was more needed, on her poisoned beloved.

And when Legolas had returned after the destruction of Lake Town, he had certainly not seemed any worse for wear. Of course, Tauriel had not really been focused on her prince, her thoughts constantly turning to the young dwarf that had somehow managed to capture her heart in a few snatched moments of conversation. Still, it amazed her that she could have been so blind.

Thankfully, the prince's discomfort seemed to lessen once Tauriel finished wrapping his torso tightly. While his breathing remained fairly shallow, it even out almost imperceptibly and became less panicked. Legolas's eyes fluttered tiredly as he murmured his thanks.

Thranduil had made short sort of the gash on his son's forehead, stemming the bleeding with what appeared to be a silken handkerchief. Glancing briefly at the captain, Thranduil shifted slightly. "We must get you back to the city, ion-nin. This cut needs stitching."

Understanding immediately, Tauriel posititioned herself at Legolas's good arm. "Do you think you can stand?"

In answer Legolas nodded and, taking a minute to adjust his feet under him, forced himself up. The king and his captain hovered on either side and it wasn't until his knees buckled alarmingly that Tauriel grabbed his good arm and slung it over her shoulders in an attempt to keep him upright, cursing internally about inherited Elvish pride. Legolas let out a sharp hiss as the position pulled at his ribs, but leaned on the she-elf nonetheless.

Thranduil took to walking slightly in front of the shuffling pair of younger elves, picking his way down the pass carefully and leading them on the sturdiest patches of snow. Neither he nor Tauriel spoke, the captain's heart crying out in agony as each step after her king took her further and further from the body of her beloved. Even Legolas's light panting breaths against her ear could no longer distract her.

Tauriel glared at the broad, finely cloaked back before her, seething in her grief and anger. Why must her king be so cruel? How could he expect her to live, to carry on with her duty as though she were not materially altered heart and soul? Surely he understood the bonds of love, the physical imprint Tauriel felt must now exist on her heart.

Surprisingly, it was Legolas who broke the silence, his voice rough and breathy and audible over the wind only due to their Elven hearing. "Did you find them, Adar?"

Through her haze of grief, Tauriel noticed a hesitant stiffening of those infuriating shoulders. Legolas called out again.

"Did you find Nana's jewels?"

Tauriel actually stopped short in shock, causing the prince to grunt in pain as the movement jostled his battered body. The legendary white jewels that Thranduil so desired... They had been the Queen's?

Yet again the captain felt like a fool, felt she had been senselessly blind for so long. How had she missed this side of the Mirkwood king, she who had been fostered in his very household alongside his own son? Tauriel knew of the king's grief for his departed wife, knew that he buried himself in his duties when the pain became too much to bear. She shouldn't have been surprised when Thranduil showed fear and concern for his son, shouldn't have doubted his ability to love. Because Thranduil was not just a king, but a father and husband who would do anything to keep his family close to him, even if that meant disregarding the safety of others or marching into war to retrieve the only token of their existence left in Middle Earth.

"Not yet, ion-nin." Thranduil's deep voice was strained, but his shoulders relaxed again and resolve overcame his posture. "But we will not be going home without them."

Tauriel adjusted her grip on Legolas and started forward again, a newfound gratitude for her king flowing through her veins. She would face punishment for her actions, she was sure, but she now recognized Thranduil was also trying to save her from pain the only way he knew how. Just as he clung to his duty as king in the face of his own grief, so too did Thranduil thrust the captain's duties forcefully back onto Tauriel and, in doing so, pull her back from the dark oblivion of despair. Where there was duty there was purpose and where there was purpose, she would not fade.

Elvish Translations:

Ion-nin - son

Adar - father

Daro - Stop!

Nana - mama/mother