A/N Sorry that this is late —my bad. But hey it's here, so that's what matters right? I hope you guys enjoy this story as much as I enjoyed writing it!

A special thanks to my beta.

Disclaimer: not mine…

Just The Beginning

Chapter One

An arrow whizzed through the air, landing with a resounding smack in the tree directly next to Legolas's head. The young elf ducked, whisking an arrow of his own out of his quiver and notching it. Pulling the bowstring back, Legolas sighted an orc before letting it fly.

The foul creature fell with a loud cry, a hand flying to its chest. It was only one of evil creatures that filled the forest, striving to rid it of the goodness that Mirkwood had once possessed.

Legolas yanked another arrow out, his hand firm despite all of it. His large blue eyes were wide and scared looking while his breathing came in short gaps. This was the first time that the young elf, relative in age to a young teen in human years, had been in the horrors of battle…the damage, bloodshed, the stench of death.

Oh, this was not the first time he had seen the devastating effects, he had often helped the injured and heard the stories. This was not even his first kill, but it was his first experience with death on his comrades' part. Nothing could have prepared him for it.

A scream wrenched Legolas back to reality, causing his hands to lightly shake for the first time. Firing another arrow, the prince suddenly found himself making a downward plunge, a heavy weight pressing against his back. Falling hard to his knees, Legolas twisted around chocking on his horror as he turned back to see what had hit him and found himself locking eyes with an obviously dead elf.

Scrambling back as quickly as possible, Legolas tired to stay in control, but his panic was beginning to take hold. A sudden snarl brought him whipping around, and he came face to face with a blood stained knife.

Stumbling to his feet and wrenching his blades free at the same time, Legolas met the enemy head one. Hacking the orc through the stomach, the prince narrowed his eyes getting a hold of his emotions as best as he could. His feeling didn't matter right now, his companies lives might depend on him staying in control.

Two leering orc stalked the young elf. To their eyes he looked an easy kill, only a young frightened elf, and they lopped towards him. It was a mistake. One targeted the prince from the front while the other came from behind.

Legolas saw the first orc out of the corner of his eye, and swung around slashing forward with his knife. The orc bellowed, clutching at the hole in his chest before crumpling to the ground. The other orc meanwhile loomed up behind Legolas, taking advantage of the elf's distraction.

Thrusting a blood stained knife at his target, the orc threw his weight behind it as he pushed it deeply in the elf's unprotected right side.

The pain was sudden and divesting. Legolas gasped out a scream, fighting against the urge to fall to his knees. Bright flashes of light appeared before his eyes and for a moment the young elf thought he was going to pass out. The pain reached an even higher intensity as the knife was brutally yanked free and Legolas lost his footing, falling ungracefully to all fours.

The ground beneath his eyes swirled threateningly, teasing the elf as it moved on him. Hoping that the sky would not be like the ground, the prince glanced up, only to find that a dark blob was blocking the light. Blinking with effort Legolas's mind slowly comprehend what the "dark blob" really was —the orc, with his blood-stained knife already making the downward plunge. Legolas did nothing, eyes wide and staring, but unable to move as he was frozen in pain and terror.

Suddenly, it was the orc who was screaming, the orc who was falling forward with the tip of an ivory blade sticking out of his chest.

The sound jerked Legolas back. Surging to his feet Legolas removed his hand from where it had automatically gone to his side. It was covered in blood, his own blood and he quickly pressed it back against the wound.

It's not that bad, it's not that bad…there are more elves who need you to be strong, Legolas Greenleaf! The prince thought firmly to himself, mistakably noting his wound to be much less than what it was. Just keep fighting, no matter what!

Fortunately for the young prince, the intensely of the fight was already slowing and before long only elves left standing. The forest was oddly silent, only the heavy breathing of the elves making a sound.

Legolas struggled to stay upright, one hand pressed against his still dripping side. He needed to do something more to stop the blood flow, but his tried mind was slow to come up with the obvious. After a moment, Legolas fumbled with the end of his cloak, ripping the bottom off and wrapping it around wound, which comprised of the right side of his chest.

A low moan was heard from his left and looking over Legolas spotted an equally injured warrior, lying on the blood splattered ground. Clinging tightly to the trees, the elf made his way over, dropping with relief to the ground.

"Is…is there anything…I can do?" he asked, his words slurring. Frowning at the strange occurrence, Legolas tried to focus on the elf in front of him.

"Those who are able to help the wounded, do so!" a loud voice echoed through the clearing, coming from the commander. "We must hurry and leave before more attack, we are in no shape to face another large group."

Legolas registered the words and turned his blurred gaze back to the elf next to him. The elf was more unconsciousness than awake and did little to help Legolas haul him to his feet. The added weight threw the prince off balance, causing him to stumbling into a tree, doubling over slightly with pain.

The warrior he was support roused himself just enough to give the prince a worried look.

"You…" he began, before his eyes rolled back and he sunk down even more against Legolas.

You can do this…you can do this…Ada could do it…." Legolas repeated over and over to himself, shouldering the warrior's weight and joining the staggering line of elves. The large crimson stain only continued to grow across the bandage, hidden by his cloak.


The cry for help was raised almost immediately when the elves of Mirkwood saw the wounded warriors coming into view. Within minutes the place was swarming with healers and other elves that where racing to their aid.

Legolas shook the elf he was holding slightly, beginning to seriously fear for that the other had died. It was not true, but he didn't know that. The prince himself was feeling quite light headed. The blood from his own injury had finally started to let up, but he still had a lost a dangerous amount.

Just keep walking…it's nothing….you can do it. Legolas muttered quietly to himself for the thousandth time. It was only his will power which kept him up and going.

Hearing shouting in the distance, he looked up with half-lidded eyes, watching as elves came in waves towards them. Suddenly a healer was at his side, gently taking the injured warrior from him.

"Are you well, your highness?" A second healer asked, grabbing Legolas's arm.

"Yes…" the prince mumbled, watching as the healer rushed off to help someone else. The scene was slightly familiar. It had happened a few times in his short life, though Legolas had only experienced it form the other point of view.

"Legolas…!?" a voice suddenly shouted, raising above the rest of the din. Startled, Legolas looked up, rearranged his cloak and hiding the blood and bandage as he recognized his father King Thranduil's, voice. His head did not agree with the fast movement and suddenly the elves around him began to blur together in a mass of color and noise. Everything was becoming much to hard to focus on…

"Legolas!, oh bless the Valar, Legolas, are you injured?"A familiar voice cried just seconds before strong arms were wrapped around him in a tight embrace. Legolas jumped badly, stumbling back with surprise and irrational fear.

"Legolas—"Thranduil asked in surprise, freezing where he was at, unsure whether he should take a step back or go forward. The hurt look that crossed his face caused Legolas to smile apologetically, slowly stepping forward to meet his father. This time he did not turn away as his father embraced him.

"Ada," Legolas whispered, leaning his forehead against his father's shoulder. Thranduil pulled his son a little closer for a second, his heart warmed to find his only child still alive. Holding Legolas out at arm's length, the king studied him carefully.

The prince was covered in the grim of war. Blood darkened his clothes and face and Thranduil thought his son looked paler under all of it. "Are you well?" the king asked again, softer this time and starring directly into Legolas's eyes.

"Yes, ada, I am well." The prince avoided his father's gaze, choosing a spot on the ground to look at instead. "Just tired." This was very true; he was tired both physically and mentally.

Thranduil understood. He would never forget his very first battle. It was a scar that he would forever hold. Seeing your companies cut down was something that was not easily forgot.

"Come, Ion-nin you will be of no use if you fall asleep on your feet." He said firmly, wrapping his arm around his young son's shoulders and guiding him back towards the palace. He steered them through the crowd of elves, knowing that he would have to come back as soon as he took care of Legolas.

"Ada I can go back myself...I'm not a child. Stay and help." Legolas said, thinking along the same line. Pulling back from his father, they were both surprised when Legolas swayed on his feet. One of his hands flew out wrapping itself around his father's arm, holding himself steady while his father's hands grabbed his arm.

"Ion-nin, I think it would be best for me to accompany you back." Thranduil spoke quietly, brow furring with worry.

"No, ada, really I'll be fine." Legolas whispered, almost pleading for the older elf to leave him alone. He couldn't keep this façade up for much longer…and he didn't really want his father to worry, because it wasn't that bad.

Suddenly a cry went up for the king, breaking off their conversation. The commander of the troops was weaving his way through the crowd, skidding to a stop next to the pair. Dropping to his knees for a second the warrior rose.

"Sire, I have urgent news which cannot wait!" he said, a worried look etched on his face.

"We will discuss it later." The king said firmly, frowning at the interruption. The warrior did not back down, however, insisting that the king really was needed. Thranduil froze, a look of indecision crossing his face. His father instincts were screaming at him to take Legolas back, make sure for himself that his young one was well… But then again, Legolas had told him that he was fine and he wouldn't lie to him, not like that.

"Legolas, go straight to your room, I want to talk with you when I get back." Thranduil ordered, placing a vice like grip on his son's shoulders and staring him in the eyes. Legolas nodded numbly, watching as his father rushed off, before stumbling off towards the palace.

By the time the young prince reached his room, he was sweating heavily and his eyes unfocused. As he reached for the door handle, he discovered that his hand shook uncontrollably.

Why am I shaking? Legolas thought with panic. Why am I so sweaty! Elves do not sweat! His panic was growing by the second. He had experience his fair share of minor injuries in the past, but never had he been so seriously wounded, or at least that he could remember.

Falling through his door way Legolas staggered over to the his soft, welcoming, bed where he closed his eyes and was almost instantly asleep.

The elf's sleep was not easy, however, His white face grew paler as he began to toss and turn. He dreamed, dreamed of seeing all his friends and family ruthlessly cut down in front of him, dreamed of hearing the screams of the dying over and over again in his mind until he thought he would go crazy. Just when he thought he really would, a sharp intense pain rocked through his chest.

Crying out, Legolas sat bolt upright, doubling over and clutching at his wound and panting heavily. Slowly, his breathing returned to normal, though the grimace of pain never left Legolas's face.

Pulling his hand away from his side, the prince was shocked to find it stained a deep, dark red. Blood…his own blood. Glancing down at his side, Legolas was even more surprised to find that his whole right side was stained with it, as well his blankets and sheets.

"Ada's going to kill me…" the prince moaned in distress, his groggy mind only thinking off all the times his father had reprimanded him for needless dirtying his bed.. He didn't realize that this was one time his father wouldn't get after him for it.

Legolas groaned, taking a good look down at himself…he was filthy and would never pass expectations.

By mere will power Legolas forced himself up right, clinging tightly to his bed post. Moaning loudly, the prince forced himself to tug his blood-stained tunic off. Looking up, the elf froze with shook at himself as he caught sight of his reflection.

His skin was an unhealthy grayish-white and dark shadows were below his eyes and his chest was marred with the sickening wound. Legolas fingered it lightly, looking at the red, inflamed skin which was beginning to swell. Though he was no healer, he knew that this wasn't right.

You need to wash it. Legolas thought, and it made sense to him. Moving slowly he dunked a cloth into a basin of water that was sitting on his dresser. Suddenly he stopped. The water probably needed to be warm…he remember hearing somewhere that hot water could clean more toughly than cold water could.

Staggering to the fire, Legolas did his best to warm some water up. When the liquid was boiling hot, Legolas rewet the cloth, bracing himself with a deep breath before pressing it against his side. The cloth feel form his hand as Legolas emitted a soft scream, falling to his knees as pained coursed through his body.

A whimpered escaped his bloodless lips and he hung his head, trying to stop the tears from slipping from his eyes. He couldn't do that again…he just couldn't. Leaning back to rest against his bed, Legolas fumbled for his already ruined tunic. Ripping it into a long strand he wrapped it firmly around his wound, hoping it would help some.

Not able to find the energy to get up, he simply slumped onto the floor, closing his eyes with a sigh and drifting into another fitful sleep.


Me — evil— I don't know what you mean! *smiles wickedly*

And just a side note, I am only going to updating this one every two week…but the good news is that my other story, Estel, Our Hope, will be posted next week!...you guys must hate me even more now...! :)