[Author’s Note: In which Legolas came home sustaining an injury and Leane took care of him. Much floof. Heccin sweet]

***

Leane watched Legolas’ expression carefully as she gently undressed him. The fair elf warrior had his eyes momentarily fluttered close, his jaw tightened though she knew–she knew he was in pain, but his expression betrayed nothing.

As the last of his top were finally being peeled off of him, she saw the bandage around his right shoulder and gasped at seeing the white fabric being soaked by red.

“Legolas,” she breathed with dread, her heart plummeted to her stomach, “This is not nothing!” she cried.

Legolas let out an amused chuckle at her expression. “My wife,” he cooed, caressing her cheek with the back of his hand, “Always so dramatic. ‘Tis nothing but a small, non-life threatening injury.”

His wife didn’t respond to that. A dark look had passed her expression, and Legolas knew that she was not listening to him and was thinking of the worst. With his index finger, he tipped her chin up.

“Look at me,” he commanded gently, trying to get her eyes off of his searing shoulder and to his eyes instead. “You’ve had worse,” he reminded her, the memory still fresh and painful in his mind’s eyes, but for her sake he flashed her his boyish grin, “Tis’ nothing but a walk in the park for you. Surely you have the confidence that your husband can endure it too.”

A disturbed frown had long been settled on his beautiful wife’s forehead. He felt her gentle hand rested on his uninjured chest, her innocent touch never failed to send butterflies to flutter in his stomach. “But you’ve never been injured. Not even once during the War of The Ring,” she pointed out, the question in her voice was demanding.

“I’ve been injured before, way long… before you were even born,” he answered sassily, dragging the word ‘long’ to tease her. The elf prince was quite pleased that he came up with such an amusing statement, yet when he saw the murderous glare his wife was shooting him, he began having a second thought.

“Not funny. What happened?” she demanded.

“I wasn’t being careful. An ambush happened. It was supposed to be easy; they were small band of orcs. My party has more number. We are faster. All of us are seasoned warrior.” He shook his head at the memory, a slight look of embarrassment passed his expression, “Pride had gotten in my way.”

Leane frowned. “You can’t do that. An ambush is an ambush, no matter how small your opponents are,” she continued softly this time, “That ignorance could cause someone their life. And yours,” she scolded him. She linked her arm to his left one, hand gently caressing his skin. She looked up at him, “I’m all alone in this world. What happens to me if you’re gone?” she questioned, her expression annoyed, yet the fear and the grieve lurking behind her twinkling eyes did not escape him.

Legolas’ eyes softened at her. “Forgive me. I will be more careful next time,” he apologized sincerely. He was able to fathom the pain he’ll put her through if he was lost. He knew the feeling too well, for death by a broken heart would be his only option if he ever lost her. He knew, because Leane, too, had had her brush with death more times than he deemed normal.

He dared not think more about it.

“Good.”

She stood on her tiptoes and leaned up to him. He smiled and met her halfway, pressing their lips together in a chaste, loving kiss. When they finally broke the kiss, Legolas was looking at her with the reverence that always managed to make his mortal wife’s cheek bloomed in the most delicious way. He took her hand and kissed it before placing it over his heart.

“Gi melin, Leane. And I missed you too much. My days spent being apart from you have been too long and lonely without you,” he confessed with a tangible longing and love in his eyes.

“I love you too,” Leane replied with a cheeky smile, “Our bed has been so cold without you.”

Legolas chuckled. “I shall warm it for you tonight.”

“Calm down, tiger,” she chirped with amusement played in her eyes. “Let’s get that bandage changed first.”

***

[Leane's POV]

The sunlight slipped through the blinds in our room. I blinked several times as I adjusted my eyes to the light. With a yawn I lazily turned my body towards the warmth next to me, expecting a soft yet icy blue eyes staring back at me with such love and mischief in it.

I found my husband was still deep in sleep, his eyes closed; his expression serene as if he was in a deep state of meditation. But upon seeing what would have been a normal look on a human, it triggered a red flag in my mind– elves almost always sleep with their eyes open. To have them sleep with their eyes closed means they were fighting a mortal injury.

My heart began to thump heavily against my chest as I sat up to have a closer look at him.

“Legolas?” called out worriedly. He remained a sleeping beauty; unresponsive to my voice. I touched his perfectly sculpted face gently and suddenly flinched away when I felt how hot his skin was. I bit my lip as a means to calm my ever rising anxiety. This time I shook his shoulder, yet he didn’t respond to me.

Fear began to slither down my being. I began to sob as I felt my heart lurched down my toes when I realized that an infection from his wound might festered in his body. With that realization, I quickly try to undo the bandage on his shoulder and gasped. The blackened skin around the wound confirmed my fear. With that, I skipped off the bed in panic and ran to find a healer.

***

The day had turned into night, yet even the best healer in Mirkwood couldn’t stop the fever that had worsen with time. Legolas was in and out of consciousness throughout the day. He began to mumble something in his sleep as the infection on his shoulder spread towards his arms, leaving his veins blackened.

“We did all we could,” said the healer, “It is now up to his highness. If he survives these few days, his chances of recovery would rise significantly.”

“And if he’s not?” I blurted out of dread, but seeing the dark gaze the healer gave me, made me entirely regret even asking that stupid question.

A heaviness had settled around me. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t do shit as I stressed whether Legolas would be able to make through the night. How would I live without him?

The thought sent deathly cold down my spine. As fear began to wreck me, my only response was to inhale deeply. But when even that didn’t work, I resorted to cry to his hand as I sat on the floor by his bedside.

I refused meals that being brought to me. I camped next to Legolas armed with a bowl of brewed potion that I had to make him drink if he ever gain consciousness again.

I hated feeling so helpless and anxious; heck–I hated me. I hate that I let him go on his various adventure and quests–I should have tied him to the bed forever and never let him leave.

A soft moan and a gasp for air caught my attention.

“Legolas!” I cried, gently caressing his face as his eyes scanned his surroundings weakly. I quickly grabbed the bowl of potion I set on the night stand as I helped elevated his head a little. “Don’t go to sleep. Please please please,” I pleaded desperately I brought the edge of the bowl next to his lips, “You have to drink this so you can get better. Please. For me. Please.”

Legolas obediently opened his lips for me to slowly help him drink the liquid. Our eyes met as he did so with much struggle. I fought to urge to cry again when I saw how the blue in his eyes seemed to be washed out, as if the color began to slip away along with his life.

It seemed that he had fought and lost the battle to keep his consciousness. And when his head lolled back in my arm, I was left shaking as I began to sob uncontrollably.

***

The more time spent next to Legolas injured self with no sign of him getting better, the more depressed I grew. I lost count on the many times I had to snap or bit someone head off for forcing me to eat or leave my husband’s side. My handmaiden Silvanna and Indossa, the king's advisor were mostly the victims of my angry outburst. I would feel guilty about snapping at them right after I did it, yet I still couldn’t bring myself to do anything else but watch Legolas as he hovered between life and death, hoping to tether him to the world of living with my presence.

I did try my magic; but it had its limitation. It could heal a physical wound, but the spider venom that was in his blood was not easily bring out. In my frustration I try and try again, much to my friends' horror, but I didn’t listen to them that it took the king himself to snap me out of it.

“It’s an order,” glared Thranduil at me. “Eat. Do not try using your magic anymore. It useless against the venom in his system.”

His voice was deep, commanding and stern that I had no choice but swallowed and nodded, though I resented it very much. In that case tears of frustration and despair began to pour from my eyes. It was unbecoming, especially in front of my majestic father-in-law, but I just couldn’t help it. My food sat there untouched, no matter how much I wanted to begrudgingly follow my king's order to eat, I just couldn’t. I just didn’t see how one could cry and eat at the same time.

I felt Thranduil shifted next to me, and before I knew it I was drowned in the warmth of his fine emerald robe that he was wearing. “There, there, little one. I know you are worried for your husband. I’m worried too; he’s my son. We both love him very much,” he said as he gently put my dark hair behind my ear with his elegant hands that were adorned with many precious jewels, “But if you continue this behavior, you might fade long before Legolas is able to fight the venom. So look into my eyes and listen to me–“ I felt his finger tipping up my chin to look at him through my teary eyes, “Eat. Gather your strength. For him and for me. Do you think Legolas would appreciate you looking this miserable while he is fighting for his life?”

I sniffled and shook my head.

“So now wipe your tears, and strengthen yourself.”

As Thranduil carefully wiped the tears on my face, I felt a golden warm light surrounding me in my chest, slightly chasing the darkness away. It reminded me of a warm spring morning, where snow began to melt to the ground. I saw the king's face, full of warmth and fatherly love as he smiled at me, though the fear that I felt could also be seen lurking behind his trapping gaze. He was strengthening himself–for both of us. And right then I knew, the warm feeling in my chest–it was all him.

“Hannon le,” I thanked him. He replied by gesturing to the food in front of me gracefully. Right then I decided to look past the depression that started to overcrowd my mind and followed his orders until I realized something. “How about you? When did you last have your meal?”

Thranduil looked a little surprised at his daughter-in-law's question; one that he didn’t have the answer for. Ever since Legolas fell ill, he himself had eaten much like a bird, and instead indulged himself more on his beloved Dorwinion wine.

“Eat with me,” Leane said once she realized that, Thranduil too, had been neglecting his own well being despite constantly having a golden cup in his hand. She made a mental note of the Woodland King's behavior and made sure that wine is not his only main diet. “There’s more than enough for both of us here.”

A warm smile made its way on Thranduil's face. “If that will ensure that you eat, then I shall oblige.”

***

The next morning, Leane woke up with a gentle caress on her hand. With much effort she lifted up her head, bleary eyes began to clear as she fixed her gaze on the smiling yet still pale Legolas next to her.

Leane had to restrain herself from throwing herself in joy at her injured, still weakened husband. She couldn’t exactly squeal like a banshee like she often did, afraid of hurting his sensitive ears. Oh she never thought that Legolas is ever weak, but at the moment the only instinct that screamed at her was to protect him.

Such a handsome, poor cinnamon roll. Must protecc, thought Leane.

And since she couldn’t really have much choice to express her relief in a way that would not further worsen Legolas injuries, she opted to cry instead.

***

Ever since he was awake, Legolas was quick to assured everyone that he was alright and that he wanted no one to worry. But upon realizing how much his sweet wife pampered him so, Legolas decided to stay 'unwell' for a bit more a time. Leane of course, wasn’t quick to realize this. But Thranduil couldn’t help but grumble (though happily) every time he saw his daughter in law pampered his son with much love and needless worrying.

Thranduil rolled his eyes. “You haven’t acted this way for over than two millennia, ion nin. Such an elfling,” chided the elven king.

“Tis' alright, Ada. I shall be Leane's practice before she bears our children,” said Legolas smugly in a hushed voice, then the crown prince proceeded to laugh to himself–that alone was out of character for his warrior elf son, and Thranduil would blame it on the painkiller drought that the healer conjured up; it seemed to be a little too much. Yet Thranduil could not deny the genuine mirth and mischief in his son’s eyes. It melted his heart, for he knew that he hadn’t been able to give his son such happiness ever since his nana was taken away from them. That until the mortal woman showed up in their lives.

When she came back to retrieve Legolas, and he saw that his son had on purposely latched himself so intimately to his wife's middle as if for balance, it just confirmed that Legolas was indeed high from the painkiller draught and the king decided that he didn’t want to witness more obscene thing that the high Legolas might do to his wife.

Thranduil shook his head and left their room, muttering 'young love' to himself with annoyance in his voice, yet not without much amusement.

***

[Author's Note: Hecc my lyfe idk why I write like this. I just don’t feel like it. Sorry if it ended with a bit of a humor. It was supposed to be a very sad, emotional chapter. Idk why Legols ended up being high lol. Review?]