Chapter Text
One of the great Elven warriors, along with his small patrol company, carried a limp, injured woman in his arms. Her blood stained his armor, dripping carelessly down his leg. Legolas and Tauriel walked behind him towards Thranduil's throne. As they reached him, Thranduil stood up from his throne to gaze down upon the situation.
"A trespasser, my Lord. She is near death. What would you have us do with her?" the warrior said.
Thranduil stepped down from the throne to inspect the woman with careful consideration. Human women were a rare sight in the forest, as many would perish before being found. Her hair was matted with dried blood by her temple, where, Thranduil assumed, she had been struck. He noticed the small golden petals of the mallos flower and grass blades stuck in her hair. Her clothing was frayed, ripped, and of questionable quality. A lowly peasant's outfit, he thought. With gentleness, he turned her head to look at her face. His finger pushed back strands of her hair that were caught on her dry, cracked lips.
Slowly, her eyelids opened at his finger touching her cheek and her dark brown eyes looked up at him in confusion and fear. She did not have the strength to fight the grip of the warrior who carried her but Thranduil could see the panic brewing in her eyes. His stoic face softened as he tried to calm her but before he could speak, her eyes shut again as she was overcome by the pain she was in. "Take her my healer. Tell him that he is to do what he can to save her life," he said, dropping his hand but still staring at her with fascination.
Legolas and Tauriel looked at each other in confusion. The King's mood had been sullen and sad for some time and this act of compassion was surprising to them. Thranduil was not known for his patience for trespassers as the dungeon would be the probable judgement- not to be taken to his personal healer.
"Legolas and Tauriel, stay," he ordered them.
As the warrior carried the woman off, Thranduil looked in her direction for a moment before addressing his son and Tauriel. "Where was she found and why would she have been foolish enough to enter the forest?"
Tauriel stepped forward, "She was found at the bottom of a ravine. It appears she slipped from the path. A group of men were chasing her. We found several tracks of men running in her direction. From the tracks, it appears something must have scared them off because they left the forest, running in a panic."
"Their horses had been tied to the trees outside the gate," Legolas said. "It appears they have left completely, heading westward."
"Was she carrying anything? A sack perhaps that might tell us her identity?" Thranduil asked.
"No, nothing was found. She appeared to have an arrow wound in her side. I believe she might have pulled it out herself and attempted to bind her wound," he said. "We didn't inspect her too closely though because we could tell she was near death."
Thranduil walked towards the stairs. "If there is any sign of the men returning, I want them captured so that I may question them."
The King returned to his personal quarters to rest but could not push the sight of the injured woman out of his mind as he poured some wine. The way her eyes looked up to him burned in his head. A coldness had settled on his heart over the past few centuries but the sight of the injured woman had inexplicably tugged at his heart in a way that was surprising.
At dawn, he appeared in the doorway of the healer's quarters that was near his own quarters. Beldaer, the most respected healer of the Kingdom and a personal friend to Thranduil, motioned for him to enter the room.
"My King, I do not know how she has survived the night but indeed this human has managed to find strength to live," the healer said. "She has a strong will. Stronger than most men."
Thranduil took four slow steps to her bed and looked over her body that lie motionless. Her battered clothes were replaced with a simple, white shift that provided some modesty. She was clean now, no signs of dried blood in her hair. Her chestnut locks, still damp from being washed, splayed out over the pillow. Thranduil watched as her chest rose and fell with each shallow breath. "And her injuries? Permanent?"
"Only time will tell, my Lord," Beldaer replied. "The arrow wound was rank with infection. She attempted to bind it but did not seek proper help for it. It appears that the wound was near three days old and by how she looks, she had little to eat or drink in that time." He paused to cover her feet with a woolen blanket. "She has been bathed and given some soothing herbs to help her sleep. Rest is the best thing for her at the moment."
Thranduil leaned over to look at her sleeping in the bed, his light gold hair falling over his shoulders as he looked at her. "Any sign of where she came from?"
"No, although there this necklace in her pocket," Beldaer said. He handed Thranduil a plain silver chain with a round locket attached. Thranduil opened it and inside was a lock of red hair tied with a pink string. He shut the locket and put it down on the table next to the woman.
"That was the only personal possession I found," Beldaer explained. The healer watched with curiosity as the King touched the woman's hand, causing her to stir in the bed.
"Is she in much pain?" Thranduil asked as his index finger ran down the length of her hand. Purple bruises and small cuts decorated her hands as she had undoubtedly encountered thorn bushes as she ran through the forest. His mind filled with worry as he wondered if she had encountered any poisonous thorns or plants.
"I've tried to make her as comfortable as possible," the healer said. "I still cannot tell if she will make it or not. It will be a good sign if she lives through the day."
Her dark eyes opened and looked up at the King with fear and sadness. "Rest," Thranduil whispered. "Be still and recover. You are safe here, little one."
The healer, a man who had served the King for many centuries, had never once seen Thranduil act with such compassion towards a human, especially one trespassing on their land. "My King, do you know this woman?" the healer asked, regretting the question as soon as Thranduil turned his eyes on him.
"No, I do not. Why would I have asked you?" Thranduil said, his voice thick with annoyance. "Is it wrong to feel compassion towards a woman who is near her death?"
Beldaer dropped his eyes to the floor, "No, it is not wrong, my Lord. My apologies, I meant no disrespect," he said before bowing.
Thranduil looked back at the woman in the bed, now sleeping again. "Keep me informed of her progress."
Legolas lingered at the door and had overheard the entire conversation between his father and the healer. "Ada, will the woman live?" he asked as he followed his father down the hall.
Thranduil continued to walk with Legolas but didn't immediately give him an answer. "Beldaer seems to think she will live if she survives the day but is not certain the extent of her injuries and whether they will affect her permanently." There was a tinge of sadness in Thranduil's voice that caused Legolas to question why his father was acting this way.
Legolas nodded. He looked over at his father, "I do not know why she was being chased but if they make another attempt to find her, we will know."
Thranduil nodded, "Good. If they dared to enter Mirkwood to follow her, capturing her must have been important enough to ignore my warnings and my wrath. They must have known she was courting death just by stepping foot into the forest and found it more important to try and capture her to drag her back from where they came. The arrow wound was serious. If you had not found her, she surely would have perished within hours."
Legolas nodded, "I know. I am glad we could find her before that happened."
Thranduil looked at his son, "Yes, I am too. I'd like you and Tauriel take a patrol out and see if there was anything that she dropped or any clues as to who her attackers were."