Everything I do…

by Any

Summary: Saving his father's life Legolas gets horribly injured. Will Thranduil be able to get over his own troubled past in order to make a decision that might save his son's life? And what will Elrond, Glorfindel and the twins do to save them both when a former ally of the wood-elves turns against their friends from Mirkwood?

Disclaimer: I own nothing. It's all Tolkien's! *sniff* No money is made out of this. Oh, hey, wait, actually I own something! Sel, Hador and, well, all the other guys that are not recognizable from LOTR! Yeah, they're all mine! *does little happy dance* Please ask first before using them, thanks! I know Sel and Hador are nice but, sorry, ladies, they're mine and I'll not let them go thaaat easily! *lol*

Rating: R (for more or less detailed battle scenes, death, torture and all the other "fun stuff" especially in later chapters)

Series: Yes, Sequel to "Father and Son". You don't have to read it to understand this story here though.

Spoilers: Not really, maybe for "Father and Son", but, mhm, no, not really.

A/N: I don't think this actually ever happened in Tolkien's world. But it could have. Like so many other things. Hehe. I'm not an expert concerning the geography of Middle Earth or the timeline of everything that has ever happened in Tolkien's world, so if you think the story- or timeline or locations or else don't fit and/or you think Master Tolkien would turn in his tomb if he'd read this, I'm sorry, please forgive me! May I mention the phrase "poetic licence" at this point? ;))

As Tolkien hasn't given us a concrete date of birth for Legolas I am not sure if the timeline I've chosen for this story is correct. After a lot of research I believe Legolas is younger than most people seem to think. I definitely don't agree to Peter Jackson's suggestion that Legolas is more than 2000 years old when he joins the fellowship. From what I have read I assume he is only around 600 years old when he joins Frodo on his quest. Therefore he must have been born sometime around the end of The Watchful Peace. To make things easier for myself I decided to his year of birth to be TA 2450. I totally disclaim this to be correct, mind you!!! :) So, considering this he is around 320 years old, when this story here takes place, so he's quite young in elven standards, probably around 20 in human standards.

As Tolkien didn't give us any information about Legolas' mother or any siblings, either, there's much space for speculations. Thank God, hehe :). For my stories I've chosen Legolas to be an only child and I decided that his mother was killed by orcs when he was very young. I know it's cruel, but please, don't blame or flame me! It's completely the plot bunny's fault! I'd also like to add that I probably will not keep that set-up should I write further fanfic. It all depends on the plot bunnies… ;) But for this series it will all be the same, of course.

English is not my native language – so, if you find major grammar mistakes or typos or else, I'd be very grateful if you'd let me know… :)

And now, to the story!


Chapter 1 – Fighting orcs

Legolas gritted his teeth as the orc's scimitar collided with his elegantly curved blade and his right arm strained painfully under the incredible force of the blow. He quickly crossed the blade in his left hand with the other one using the momentum of the move to shove his opponent away. The orc grunted in protest, baring his foul brown teeth and advanced him again, but Legolas was quick and he more or less slit the beast in two halves as soon as he lifted his scimitar over his own head in an attempt to hit Legolas down from above, foolishly leaving his belly unprotected for the elven warrior to attack.

Legolas stumbled forward a bit as the orc fell backwards and he groaned involuntarily realizing for the first time since the battle had started how exhausted he was. He glimpsed to his right, searching the battle field but all he could see was endless chaos. Elves and men were fiercely fighting orcs and wargs, bodies of all kind covered the ground, where blood mingled with rain, leaving it muddy and slippery. Thick clouds hung in the starless night's dark sky and the cold breeze blowing through the valley sent shivers down the spine of the rain soaked elf.

They had been fighting for hours now and still there seemed to be no end to the battle. Legolas took a deep breath and sighed as a hint of despair flashed through him, but in years of constantly fighting the minions of the dark power he had learnt to cast such feelings aside as soon as they flared up inside of him. So he moved on, facing his next opponents.

Noticing that the elves and men on his left side were slowly but surely gaining upper hand over their foes he swiftly ran to the right side of the battling scene, killing orc after orc on his way, unconsciously still looking for something he himself did not exactly know of what it was.

On the other side of the field wargs had encircled a group of six men, snarling dangerously at them, foul-smelling saliva dripping from their bloody jaws in the thrilling anticipation of their next kill. The men shifted nervously, back on back, their swords at the ready.

Legolas moved across the war ground and his experienced mind realized instantly that the encircled men were in need of help. They seemed to be unaware, however, that they would most likely not stand a chance should the wargs decide to jump on them. Legolas sheathed his blades, took his bow and started firing arrow after arrow. Two wargs fell dead immediately while the remaining eight howled in pain as each of them were hit by one of Legolas' arrows. They turned their attention to the shooting elf, who had fully intended to make them do exactly that! The distraction was all the men needed and they swung their swords at the foul beasts, cutting off heads, slicing throats, killing them all in less than two minutes.

Legolas locked eyes with one of the men for a moment and the human nodded his thanks, though almost imperceptibly. The elf could not suppress a rather self-satisfied smile as he saw the disgust in the man's eyes. Obviously he did not like the idea that they had needed the help of a firstborn to get rid of the beasts. As the man saw the smirk on Legolas' face he snorted in rage, turned away and hurried to another group of men who were fighting ten rather large orcs.

The Prince was brought back to his senses as he felt the air whizzing over his head when he instinctively ducked the blow of an orc behind him. He whirled around, drawing one blade in the movement and sliced the orc's throat. In the corner of his eye he caught glimpse of a green cloak blowing in the wind at the upper area of the field, and he knew instantly he had found what he had been looking for all the time. He turned around and his heart almost stopped at the sight that greeted him.

Three giant orcs were closing in on a lone elf, swinging their scimitars at him from every side. The elf seemed to be injured as he cradled his left arm against his own chest and ducked, blocking a particular deadly blow with the sword in his good hand.

Legolas did not need see more. He took his bow again and notched an arrow. He almost fired but the fighting enemies changed their positions and he had to adjust his aim in order not to shoot the elf. His heart quickened at the thought – he had been too close for comfort to shooting his own kin. As soon as he had a free line he shot the orc at the back of the other elf, then notched his next arrow and shot the one at his right side with lethal precision. He reached behind himself to get another arrow but his hand only found thin air. He had run out of arrows! Without second thought he broke into a frantic sprint to reach the other elf, who was already swaying dangerously, still paring every blow of the remaining orc but obviously growing more and more tired with each attack.

Legolas was choked with horror as he saw the elf stumble sideways and lose his sword at the next blow of the orc, sinking to his knees as his legs no longer wanted to carry him.

The orc snarled triumphantly, raising his scimitar to land his final blow on the elf who bravely braced himself to meet his death, as Legolas did the only thing he could think of.

He threw himself in the line of the down coming scimitar, a desperate cry escaping his mouth.

"Adar! No!"

Then darkness claimed him.