See Chapter 1 for disclaimer

Chapter 16 - Family

Aldeon stared down at the still figure in the bed and wished, not for the first time, that Legolas' eyes would open once again to reassure his family that he was indeed on the road to recovery. Though he had no doubts at all about Kala's medical skills, the uncertainty and waiting of the past days were wearing on the patience of all involved. It had all started when a thoroughly distressed and weary Hesin arrived at the front gate, bearing the message that had plunged their hearts into an icy pool of fear. The fact that Feren and Legolas were not far behind the trail of Hesin had not stopped Thranduil and himself from riding out to meet them.

The sight that had greeted them when they at last came upon Feren and Legolas was not one that Aldeon could easily forget. Aldeon shuddered at the memory of Feren, white-faced with fear, cradling a pain-wracked Legolas in his arms, both their tunics stained alarmingly with blood from the injured brother. It had not seemed possible that Legolas had any blood remaining to be spilled and Aldeon had truly feared that his young brother would succumb to the devastating blood loss before they could return to the stronghold.

That had been three days ago and still, Legolas, other than for the brief moment or two the evening before, had shown no further sign of coming fully into the waking world. At least the debilitating pain no longer had its cruel grip on him, Aldeon thought with no small amount of thankfulness. It had not been easy to see Legolas suffer so, and Aldeon could only imagine how it had tore at their father's heart to see his youngest at the mercy of such relentless torment.

He reached out and caressed the still too pale face tenderly. "You are going to be all right, little one."

He doubted that Legolas could hear his words, but in truth, he needed to hear the words himself to assuage the lingering fear that continued to cling to his heart. Death had been too near this time, yet again.

xxxxxxx

The night's shadows were deepening as Thranduil sat watching the sleeping face of his son, alert for the smallest sign of stirring. Having presided over the funerals of Arphen and Tithernon, a task that had drained him more than he would ever admit, he had at last returned to the bedside vigil of his youngest. In the silence of the chamber, Thranduil found himself reflecting upon the fine line that existed between life and death and how close death had been this time in crossing over that miniscule gap. His heart beating painfully at the dark memories of the past days, he breathed a silent prayer to the Valar for once more sparing the life of his child.

Even now, Thranduil could not fully cast away the lingering tendrils of the fear that had gripped his heart when he had first set eyes on his injured son. Nor could he easily forget the long hours of anguish as he watched Legolas being tormented by the incessant pain while the healers worked fervently on the antidote that would not only bring an end to the desperate suffering, but kindle the hope of reprieve from an impending death. The overwhelming sense of helplessness had been devastating. Thranduil shuddered involuntarily and leaned closer to his sleeping child, watching with wordless gratitude the gentle rise and fall of the young elf's chest.

His enforced patience was at last rewarded when the thick fringe of lashes fluttered and weary blue eyes slowly opened upon the world of living. Thranduil's smile was immediate and he cupped his son's face with gentle hands.

"Hello, Legolas." He bent forward and brushed his lips across the youthful brows.

"Adar." The word was no more than a breath that barely disturbed the air, but it was pure music to the King's ears.

Carefully, Thranduil raised his son's head slightly and pressed a cup to the whitened lips. Seeing the grimace of apprehension on Legolas' face, he chuckled softly. "It is only water, child. Kala will not be dosing you with his brew for at least another hour yet."

Reassured, Legolas drained the cup gratefully and managed a breathless thank-you as he was eased back against the pillows. Thranduil continued to watch him closely, missing nothing.

"Does your arm pain you still?"

Legolas gave a slight shake of his head. "Only a little." Whatever discomfort he was feeling now was inconsequential in comparison to the pain that he had endured, pain that had made him pray for death time and time again so as to be released from its torment. He had not expected to survive.

As if reading his very thoughts, he heard his father speaking gently. "You are going to be fine. Kala has assured us so. The poison is nearly purged from your body, but you will feel weak for some time yet, the consequence of losing far too much blood."

Legolas blinked as he absorbed this information, while his mind flitted over disjointed memories veiled constantly by a haze of pain. He had no recollection at all of the final leg of his journey home, or of his brief window of lucidity the night before.

"Is Feren well? And Hesin?" he asked and was disturbed by the frailty of his own voice.

"Your brother is well, as is Hesin," his father assured him. "They will both be very glad to know that you are now fully awake."

Legolas frowned. "How long?"

"We brought you back more than three days ago," Thranduil said. Seeing the look of surprise on his son's face, he added, "Aldeon and I rode out to meet you after we received Hesin's message of your injury." He reached out to touch his son's face again. "You had us all very worried, Legolas."

"I am sorry," his son said. "It was not …how I wish to return … from my first patrol." It seemed impossible to get more than a few words out at a time. "I - I thought I would not see you again, Adar." He could not quite control the slight hitch in his voice as he whispered the last few words.

With infinite gentleness, Thranduil gathered his son into his arms and held him close, as he had done so often in the past. "You are safe now, child."

Legolas closed his eyes and breathed in the familiar scent that had been the source of endless comfort and security to him throughout his early years, and which continued to be so, even now. For several moments, father and son remained unmoving, each drawing solace from the other's physical nearness.

It was the sound of a door opening that at last drew them apart from the embrace and both looked up to see a less than collected Tavaro making a hurried entrance into the chamber, followed more sedately by Aldeon and Feren in his wake.

"Legolas?" In a breath, Tavaro was by the bedside, peering anxiously at the brother who sat supported in their father's arms.

"Tavaro!" Despite his weakness, surprised delight was apparent in that single word as Legolas reached out shakily with his good arm.

Tavaro grasped his brother's proffered hand as his eyes continued to scrutinize the other's pale features. "I was told that you were grievously wounded. I did not know what would await my arrival."

"I am fine," Legolas said as Thranduil eased him back against the pillows.

"Fine, indeed," Tavaro scowled, maintaining his hold on the other's hand. "You look like you have just returned from the dead."

"And you look … weary to death," Legolas managed a faint smile.

Tavaro stared down at his brother and suddenly grinned as all the dark thoughts abruptly lifted. Legolas was not dying. "Well, now that we agree that we both appear less than our customary best, let us greet each other as brothers should." He bent down and embraced the younger elf, his touch gentle despite his jovial words. "You scared a millennium off my life, bratling."

"I do my best," Legolas' smile widened fractionally. "Who sent for you?"

"Need you ask?" Tavaro directed an accusing look at Feren. "The next time you decide to grant me leave from my duties, my lord commander, a simple message to that effect will suffice. I can live quite well without the dramatics of being told that one of my siblings is verging on death."

A look of guilt flashed across Feren's face. He knew only too well the shadow of fear under which Tavaro must have made his journey home. "I am sorry, Tavaro, to have alarmed you so. If I could have spared you, I would, but at the time when I sent the message, we did not know whether Kala would be successful in his endeavours. Our fears were very real."

Tavaro's eyes fell on his younger brother, taking in the colourless countenance and the breathless words that were all that Legolas could manage. Death had not been an idle threat this time. He looked up at Feren and nodded. "Fortune once more smiles upon us. I only tease. Thank you, Feren, for sending for me. I would have never forgiven you had you not done so."

Turning his attention once more to the one in bed, Tavaro grinned, even as he forced back the dark fears that were fighting to surface. This homecoming could have so easily been one of sorrow. "So, bratling, I believe you were taught by the masters to dodge the arrows of the enemy, not to stop them with your body parts. Especially so if the arrows are poisoned. You really need not to go to such extents to test the skills of Kala. Or were you thinking that you might impress the maidens with the showing of battle scars?"

Legolas smiled again, giving his head a slight shake. "It is a long tale."

"It is a long tale indeed, one which Legolas is in no condition to retell at this time," Thranduil intervened. "Tavaro, you look like you are in dire need of a bath and rest. Go. You may come back to visit with Legolas when you have done so."

"Yes, Adar. I would not turn down a hot meal along with some fine wine at this time either," Tavaro said tiredly, suddenly feeling the emotional and physical exhaustion of his frantic journey home.

Aldeon laughed and wrapped an arm around his brother. "Come then, and I will make certain that your needs are looked after."

"You may bring the food and wine, but I will bathe myself, Aldeon," Tavaro said with a grin.

Aldeon laughed, feeling the tensions of the past days ebb away. "I have no intentions of bathing you, believe me."

Tavaro joined in the laughter. Reaching down, he tousled his younger brother's hair with gentle playfulness. "I expect to see you here when I return, bratling."

"Adar will keep me here," Legolas assured him, his eyes flickering over to his father.

"In that you are correct, Legolas," Thranduil nodded. "Do you feel you are able to eat something now?"

Legolas frowned, then seeing the imploring look on his father's face, he nodded. "Perhaps some broth?"

"I will go and have some sent from the kitchen," Feren offered immediately.

"Feren," Legolas called out.

His brother turned and looked at him expectantly. "Yes?"

"Stay. I would like to speak with you," Legolas said, glancing at his father.

Thranduil immediately stood up. "I will go and send word to the kitchen while you speak with your brother, and to let Kala know that you are now awake."

"Thank you, Adar," Legolas said gratefully.

Left alone, Feren took the seat recently vacated by his father. "How are you feeling, Legolas? The truth."

His brother smiled a little wanly. "The truth? Weak as a newborn."

"That is not surprising considering you were nearly drained of your blood," Feren nodded. "What is it that you wish you speak to me about, Legolas?"

"I want to thank you, for bringing me back," Legolas said, pausing out of necessity for breath. "It could not … have been an easy journey for you."

"No, it was not, but I fear it was a much harder journey for you," Feren said, reaching out to grasp his brother's hand. "I am only thankful that the outcome is the way it is."

A small smile touched the pale lips. "At least I was too weak … to disobey you … on this journey home."

Feren's fingers tightened briefly over those of his brother, his own lips twitching. "Yes, a small blessing at that. Do not think that you will be spared of a lecture on obedience to your superiors. You will have plenty of time to think upon that in the next few days."

Had he been able to spare the blood, Legolas would have flushed at his brother's words. "I will try, Feren, … though sometimes it is difficult … when I doubt the wisdom … of certain orders and decisions."

Feren frowned. It would seem that Legolas indeed had some things to learn yet, but seeing the exhaustion on his brother's face and the obvious difficulty that he had in sustaining a conversation, Feren did not think that it was an appropriate time now to have such words with the younger elf. "We will need to speak on this issue when you are feeling stronger, but for now, you should rest until Adar returns with your food."

Legolas closed his eyes, once more overwhelmed by the exhaustion that threatened to flatten his senses. "Feren?"

"Yes?"

"I would like to visit Esgaroth … some day in the future. Would you accompany me … on such a visit?"

Feren blinked in surprise. It had been many years since Legolas had even spoken of the name of this settlement where humans dwelled, let alone voicing a desire to visit the place. Then he remembered what Hesin had told him.

"I would be pleased to accompany you on such a visit, when you are ready for it," Feren said carefully.

A small smile touched his brother's face. "Thank you, Feren, for everything."

Feren smoothed his hands gently over the bright hair. "You are very welcome, Legolas."

Feren sat back in his chair and listened to his brother's breathing, quiet and even as the younger elf succumbed to his exhaustion. A picture came into Feren's mind, suddenly and unbidden, of a small elfling running down the palace corridor, brandishing the small toy bow in his hand at some unseen enemies, the infectious childish laughter echoing off the cavern walls. Then the picture was gone, leaving behind a lingering sense of bitter sweetness as he watched the face of the young warrior before him, deep in sleep.

THE END

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