Rating: PG-13 to R (Angst... proceed with caution)

Summary: When Legolas is forced to make a decision that could very
well determine the fate of all Middle Earth, what will he do? And
what consequences will his choice have?

// = elvish translations
# = flashbacks
* = thought

Disclaimer and Acknowledgements: As in Chapter 1

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Chapter 20 - Adverse Event

Legolas looked at his breakfast disgustedly and pushed it aside with a groan. Elrond had started him on the treatment the night before and the prince had gone to bed straight after downing the potion and had slept through the night without dinner. Thinking that the prince would be hungry by morning, Elrond had asked the kitchen to prepare a slightly larger breakfast for the young elf. Elladan and Elrohir had been eyeing greedily the set of breakfast ever since it was set down on the table.

The older twin looked over at Legolas. "You are not going to eat that?"

Legolas shook his head silently.

"Surely you are hungry since you skipped dinner yesterday," Aragorn shifted his attention from his food to the elf sitting opposite him.

"I’m not hungry," Legolas said bluntly.

"Does that mean we can have your share?" Elrohir asked hopefully.

The prince shrugged and gestured for the twin to help himself and both Elladan and Elrohir dove at the food without a second thought. Elrond shook his head. If an outsider saw that, he would think that the elf lord had been ill-treating his sons by starving them.

Glancing over at Legolas and noting his pallor, Elrond suspected that his loss of appetite was a side effect due to the treatment that he received. Leaning over the table, he picked out a bowl of soup that was rejected along with the rest of his breakfast and placed it in front of Legolas.

"Take some soup. You need to eat something," the elf lord said gently.

Legolas nodded slowly and picked up a spoon, stirring the soup mindlessly. After forcing himself to half a bowl, he finally gave up and dropped the spoon.

"I need some fresh air." Pushing his chair back with haste, he stood up and excused himself from the table.

Aragorn jumped to his feet to follow his friend but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. Elrond rested his hand lightly on the human’s shoulder and pushed him back down onto his chair.

"I will tend to him. Stay and finish your food," he rose and followed quietly behind the prince, keeping a respectful distance.

Legolas’ long strides carried him out into the garden swiftly. He breathed in deeply as his stomach protested angrily at the soup that he had just taken, trying desperately to repel it from his body. The elf groaned and clamped his hand over his mouth, a quick few steps brought him to a nearby tree. Leaning his forehead against the trunk, he swallowed hard, trying to suppress the nausea that was trying to overwhelm him but to no avail. Cold sweat broke out on his face and neck as his stomach heaved, bring up the soup he had eaten not so long ago. Dry heaving continued even after he had gotten rid of the contents of his stomach.

Elrond kept his distance knowing that the prince would need some privacy at this sensitive moment. He watched as the dry heaving continued and decided to make his approach. Making his way to the prince, his worry grew as he saw that the elf was near collapse. He hastened his pace and reached Legolas just before his knees buckled.

Legolas felt like his stomach was turning itself inside out but he could do nothing about it. Bracing himself against the tree, he concentrated on breathing and staying upright but the muscle spasms prevented him from doing neither. He felt his knees gave way but before he landed unceremoniously on the forest floor, a pair of strong arms encircled him from behind and lowered him down gently. The young prince groaned and fell forward but the figure behind held onto him, stopping him from pitching headfirst into the ground.

Legolas felt someone rubbing his back soothingly and he closed his eyes, trying to compose himself as the spasms slowly let up. Someone was whispering softly in elvish and the words somehow helped him relax but his mind was still too woozy to recognise the owner of the voice.

"Feeling better?" Elrond finally asked after the prince had regained most of his bearing, while brushing a strand of damp hair away from Legolas’ face.

Legolas stiffened upon hearing the voice. Lord Elrond. He had made a complete fool of himself in front of the Lord of Rivendell. Not even his father had seen him this sick before… not that he was ever this sick in his life.

"Legolas?" the elf lord pressed again.

"I-I’m fine," the young elf stammered.

Turning Legolas around to face him, Elrond placed a hand on the prince’s forehead. "You have a fever."

The young prince turned away to avoid eye contact with Elrond. "I’m sorry," he apologised.

"You have nothing to be sorry about," the older elf replied. "I should be the one apologising for getting you involved in my family matters."

Legolas shook his head and his face flushed slightly. "This is embarrassing. I have never been this sick before."

Elrond placed his fingers under Legolas’ chin and tilted his head so that his silver-blue eyes met his grey ones. "Don’t be, my child. I have dealt with this more than enough times."

Legolas smiled weakly. "At least now I know how Estel felt when he got sick."

Elrond let out a small laugh, "That you do my prince, that you do." Wrapping his arms around the young elf’s waist, he helped Legolas up onto his feet. "Let’s go back to the house and get you into bed."

The prince moaned and clutched his stomach tightly as another wave of nausea assaulted him. He held his breath and waited until the queasiness subsided. Leaning heavily on Elrond for support, he let the elf lord lead him back into the house.

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To Be Continued...