Legolas was greatly fatigued by the twins’ antics, which had both depressed him and managed to uplift him simultaneously. His headache was very troubling; the world continued to tilt on its axis, the colours too bright and noises too loud. It was nearly unbearable being in the same room as Elrond’s sons when they were arguing. As the sound rose he tried to bury himself deeper under the covers, to no avail. Finally despairing, believing that if this sound continued his brains would be trickling from his ears in no short time, he spoke up.

“Truly it was a welcome sight this morning, however if you wouldn’t mind lowering your voices it would be greatly appreciated.” Laughing to himself at how quickly the argument stopped in favour of concern for him, he hurried to alleviate it.

“I am well, it is only a lingering headache; loud noises seem to increase it.” As they rushed to apologise he was equally quick to reassure them that they were not at fault. Indeed they could not have realised that his headache would be so severe. He did not tell them that of course, implying that it was mild only, and that he was a little tired. In truth he felt worse than he could ever remember feeling; every muscle in his body seemed to ache deeply, throbbing in time with his head. It mattered not whether his eyes were closed, the curtains preventing light from entering the room, or the twins absolutely silent, he was incredibly nauseated, and growing worse.

He had not slept after his depressing awakening early that morning. He had contemplated rising to check on Aragorn, but his headache, and the sleeping presence of Elrohir had prevented this. Instead he had lain quietly, trying not to wake the concerned elf. Each attempt at re-entering his magnificent dream had failed; all that he was able to recapture was the feeling of loss as his flight failed. For the first time that he could remember, he was deeply unsatisfied with his elvish form and abilities. Each seemed vastly less when compared to his winged-self the previous night. Attempting to distract himself from these futile thoughts, he encouraged the twins to relate to him the previous nights events, at least he thought they were the previous night’s; in truth he had lost a great deal of time. As they related the events, he began to get flashes of memory…

//

“Estel, there is something malevolent approaching!” the elf said.

“Is that your attempt at warning me there will be after-effects from this meal, Legolas? Worry not, I have experienced them before! Especially when travelling with you!” Aragorn retorted.

“Idiot,” Legolas smiled, “I do not mean that your cooking is terrible, which it is, but that something approaches.”

Before either elf or man could rise, the woods seemed to burst forth with orcs, bent on destroying them. With a last look at the meal, cooked almost to perfection, Aragorn sighed and drew his sword, stepping into a defensive position.

Legolas, with a quick glance at the trees, despaired of reaching cover, and drew his bow sighting upon its length at the first approaching orc. Disgusted by the sight of the malformed, drooling beast, he nevertheless remained focussed until sure of his aim. Releasing the taut string, he sensed the arrow flying directly at his target. Without waiting to see whether the creature fell he focussed on the next one approaching, and in a quick fire process managed to drop all those within range.

Aragorn, sword drawn, was unfortunately facing three beasts at once. Although, for a mortal with his skill, he was more than a match for any orc, three at once would stretch even his elven-taught abilities. Thankfully for him, the orcs were none too bright, and instead of attacking all together, each waited for the other to take his turn. Shaking his head at their stupidity, Aragorn ducked underneath the ferocious swing of the first, an attempt that trapped the orc-blade deep within the trunk of a nearby oak. Instead of releasing the axe, the orc tugged futilely upon it, unable to free it. This provided Aragorn with a perfect opportunity to cleave a hole through its chest.

Withdrawing his sword he spun to face the next approaching orc. This second battle was more challenging; his fatigue from the long day’s journey, the unfortunate lack of food and his previous battle began to tell upon him. His reactions and movements were slightly dulled and stiffer than usual. Momentarily hard-pressed, he found himself forced to defend the rapid attacks of the beast. It did not help that the creature wielded two blades to his one. Feeling the muscles in his arms protesting at keeping his sword raised to deflect the oncoming blows, Aragorn decided a change of tactics was needed. Diving to the right to avoid the multiple slashes, Aragorn entered into a roll which placed him out of reach of the orc, behind him. Rising silently, he thrust his sword through the orc’s back as the creature swung his head from one side to the other, searching for his lost prey. Left now with only one beast to cope with, he felt comfortable, and risked a glance to check on Legolas.

Legolas, who had rapidly dispatched his arrows at the orcs, was just lowering his bow as the last of them fell. Looking up he met Aragorn’s eyes, and flashed up a hand of five fingers, displaying the amount he had felled. Frowning in mock anger, Aragorn indicated the two he had slain. Legolas responded with a look of incredulity, glancing to the meal, obviously enquiring just what Aragorn had been up to while he had been busily at work. Sensing the motion in the air, Aragorn raised his sword just in time to meet the falling blade that would have removed his head had he not been more alert. Legolas shook his head in disgust at the human’s lack of attention, and, drawing his bow, aimed an arrow at the orc’s heart, ready to intercede should it be required. Moments later he was thankful that he had been so thoughtful; his heart had almost stopped as Estel had retreated backwards into that tree,

//

“Surely you taught him to fight better than that Elladan!” Legolas had interjected.

Elladan was not amused, in fact he appeared angry at Estel’s forgetfulness. “I did, I cannot believe he was so unobservant!”

Legolas would not stand for any denigration of Aragorn’s skills, knowing well that the human was a quick study of technique. “I have noticed that Aragorn is very quick at picking up what he is taught, I believe this a failure on the part of the teacher, not the pupil!”

“Would you like to hear the rest of the tale? Or are you quite content to rest here, knowing nothing further?”

Legolas shut up.

//

Releasing his arrow, Legolas had the pleasure of seeing his sixth kill collapsing to the floor, while Aragorn stood, breathing heavily, staring down at the corpse in disbelief. Amused at the human’s shock Legolas could not resist teasing him.

“I grew tired of waiting Estel, mayhap in future you could finish your battles more efficiently; I believe our dinner is getting cold,” the elf jested.

Shaking his head at his lapse, Aragorn raised his head to look ruefully at Legolas, a look, which quickly turned to one of alarm. Interpreting the look, Legolas dived to one side feeling a blinding pain in his leg as he did so.

Clutching at his wound in an attempt to lessen the bleeding and the pain, Legolas remained crouched in this position, unaware of the orc’s activities. His senses, temporarily dulled by the shock, were reawakened as he heard an anguished cry, and then a thud. Tensing in fear that Aragorn was bested, he was relieved to hear the overly heavy breathing of the fatigued human. Taking several deep breaths himself, to slow the pain, his voice of reassurance was convincing, at least to him.

“I’m alright Estel ‘tis but a scratch. Where did he come from?” he wondered.

He groaned, this time not in pain, but in mortification as Aragorn turned to face him, arrow in hand; an arrow he recognised as one of his own. He was forced to accept the human’s reproof, knowing that he had failed him.

Aragorn’s wry smile belied the concern in his eyes. “Perhaps next time you will exercise a little more accuracy and a little less haste in your fights. I’d much rather have a cold meal than have you dead.”

Thought after that was very hard, the pain of his wound, though slight compared to previous wounds he had received, troubled him far more than he wished to let Aragorn know. The human was, unfortunately, quite perceptive, and as his mouth tightened and tension lines appeared upon his forehead, Legolas knew that he had failed in his attempt.

He remembered little else after that; Aragorn was gone for what seemed to be days, searching for an herb to ease his pain. On his return, the frown lines had deepened, and Legolas was convinced that the human’s hair was turning grey with worry before his very eyes. The herb that Aragorn had found, was not one that Legolas recognised, trusting the human’s abilities though, he submitted himself – unwillingly – to his care.

Events blurred even more, he sensed the pain easing until he was almost unaware that such a thing ever existed. He seemed to feel more energy running through his veins, more life. He was unable to resist running amongst the trees.

Not unaware of Aragorn’s concern, he tried to restrain himself, but was unable to stop himself from imagining. Here is where he began to lose track of time and events. Fantastic flight and adventure were what he remembered, and he was unable to integrate them with his current depression and exhaustion, for he had felt truly alive, for what felt like the first time, in his long life.

//

“…So it was an herb that caused such a reaction in me? What name did you call it?” Legolas questioned. “I have not heard of such a thing before. Truly, I could feel no pain at all. I do not believe I even knew what pain was!”

“It was Rucin Legolas, but I do not think that using it was such a good idea, at least father certainly does not think so!”

“Well I can certainly vouch for its effectiveness, although next time I think I could do without attempting to fly!” Legolas ended this sentence on a yawn, unable to deal with his feelings of weakness and this conversation at the same time. He had had only half a night’s sleep; the latter half being spent tossing and turning trying to recapture his feelings of exhilaration. Feeling guilty at drawing the twin’s attention away from their family, and at requiring tending once again through his own fault, Legolas pretended fatigue in order to force them to leave.

Once the twins had said their goodbyes and left however, Legolas felt the depression, which had temporarily lifted at their antics, begin to overwhelm him again. He felt unable to move; everything seemed to pain him with its weakness or stiffness. His head was swimming worse than it had all night, and he began to regret declining Elladan’s offer of a painkiller. Lying there, his misery overwhelming him, he was unable to stop himself from blaming Aragorn for his current experiences.

‘If that human had not distracted me or drugged me I would not be feeling so awful now,’ he thought.

Horrified at his treacherous thoughts concerning his friend, Legolas began to truly be worried about his injuries, maybe the blow to his head had affected him more than both he and Elrond believed! Deciding to try and sleep off these thoughts, Legolas closed his eyes, subjecting himself to another bout of nauseated depression rather than sleep.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Chuckling to himself, Elladan marched quickly from his brother’s room – not running, nay never that! - checking behind him just in case there was some form of retribution coming his way. Reaching his own rooms safely, he dressed hurriedly and, deciding to err on the side of caution, delayed breakfast until after his meeting with his father. Knowing that Elrohir would be taking breakfast to Estel, Elladan would not risk being embroiled in a food fight and have to change again. Not that he would initiate such an immature battle, but his brother was certainly young enough to find it amusing.

In all too short a time he found himself standing outside the elaborately carved doors to his father’s chambers. He took a deep breath to prepare himself for…well he wasn’t really sure, but he knew that Elrond had been furious last night, and he really didn’t want that rage directed at him. He raised his hand and knocked sharply; hearing no answer he knocked again. After a third time he began to get concerned, it was not that early, and although Elrond was an habitual early riser he was usually still in his chambers at this hour. Risking his father’s anger Elladan opened the door and entered.

There was no outward sign of a struggle; the candles were lit, the furniture was in its proper place, there was no broken glass on the floor, yet Elladan remained uneasy. Sensing that something was wrong, he scanned the room more closely looking for the cause of his concern. Rolling his eyes in relief and reproof for failing to spot it earlier, he finally noticed what was wrong. Elrond had not used this room this night. The candles were burnt right down; as he watched one guttered out. The fire was only a heap of glowing embers, it had obviously been left untended. But the deciding factor was the state of the bed, it too had been untouched, unslept in. Laughing at himself for his failure to notice this right away, Elladan was amused to realise that he was the only one in this family who appeared to have had the sense to sleep properly last night. Closing the door behind him, he left to search his father’s study, and then the dining room, all the most likely places that Elrond would have been headed last night.

Surprising himself somewhat with his luck, Elladan found his father bent over a book at his desk in the study, hair trickling forward masking his face. Candle and fire here were also burning low. As he watched, Elrond remained motionless and turned no pages; yes truly had he found where his father slept last night. For a very fleeting second Elladan was tempted to seek another jug of water, but fortunately his common sense returned and he called his father awake, preferring not to aggravate any remaining temper he may be in.

“Adar? You do realise that you have spent all night here? Is aught wrong?” he asked.

Elrond awoke with a scowl on his face, plainly his anger of the night before had not dissipated with rest. Raising his head to gaze at the fiend that had awakened him, the scowl became a wince at the stiffness in his neck. Placing a hand there, gently massaging away at the pain Elrond lowered his head slightly, wiping away the vestiges of sleep with his free hand. As the pain began to ease he again raised his head, slowly this time, and gaped in confusion at Elladan.

“Do tell what happened to your eye,” he asked. “I trust it wasn’t another dare from your brother?”

Ducking his head in embarrassment and relief that Elrond was being reasonable, Elladan made the mistake of relating the previous night’s incident with Aragorn’s fist. “It was accidental Ada,” he said. “I was too slow too move and Estel was far to exhausted to stop his movement.”

Knowing the instant that he mentioned Aragorn by name he had made a mistake, Elladan tried to appeal to his father’s concern for the human. “He was completely exhausted last night, after his trek carrying Legolas, and was in condition to do anything but collapse.”

Elrond’s scowl deepened, he had no wish to hear mention of that name this early today, if ever. He had far too much work to do because of that boy. “Do not mention that name to me this morning or indeed for the rest of the day,” he frowned. “I am in no mood to excuse his actions, and his fatigue is deserved as far as I’m concerned.”

Elladan gaped at his father; he had hoped that the comments of the night previous were due to the shock at Legolas’ bloodied form. It had been a troubling sight, fortunately far worse than his injuries were in actuality. “Father, you cannot mean that!” he exclaimed. “It was the smallest of mistakes. Elrohir and I both agree that we would have done the same.”

“Then you both are far greater fools than I could ever have imagined it was possible to be,” Elrond answered. “You reject the word of your father, who has lived considerably more years than yourself, and furthermore you proceed to tell me that the actions I am condemning were justified.”

Elrond’s head felt stuffed with fatigue, he had been reading until very late this morning and had in truth managed less than two hours sleep before being awakened to this; he was in no mood to let this argument continue. “There are very few times that I do not recognise in you some small exhibition of correctness,” he continued. “But in this instance I can truly say that everything you do and say is in error. I realise that I have not provided you with certain information that would most definitely alter your opinion, and that you feel the need to defend your brother. However, I cannot allow you to continue on with this attitude. I am gravely disappointed that neither you nor Elrohir seem able to accept my word with the certain knowledge that it is right; that I am right. I will hear nothing more on this matter, understood?” he demanded.

Elladan’s eyes had kept growing wider throughout this conversation; if it could, in reality, be called a conversation since it seemed he was to be allowed little part of it, and anything that he did say would be summarily rejected. He was brought out of his distraction by his father’s demand for an answer.

“I said is that understood?” was the sternly repeated question.

Knowing that to continue at this point would end either with his father storming from the room, or having him removed, Elladan nodded his obedience. Noting his father’s eyes still upon him, he spoke this aloud. “Yes father, I will speak no more of this for the immediate future.”

Reddened, fatigued eyes stared back at him, until his word was acknowledged with a curt nod. “Good. Does that eye trouble you? Are you in need of a poultice?”

Shaking his head inwardly at Elrond’s abrupt dismissal of the matter, of Estel, Elladan declined any aid. “My eye already swells less, and it does not pain me unless it is prodded.”

“Then may I suggest that you stay away from Elrohir, I do not think he will be able to resist from touching it.” Elrond’s attempt at humour was pitiful really, but since he was obviously making an effort to control his anger, Elladan forced a smile at it.

“It is not myself who is in pain this morning but Legolas,” Elladan remembered. “He attempts to conceal it, and does not wish to trouble us, but it is clear he is not well.”

Elrond sat up straighter at this, his eyes sharpening with worry. The drawn look upon his face grew more pronounced as he took in his eldest son’s observations. “How so?” he asked. “What exactly is it that makes you so concerned with him?”

Elladan grimaced to himself at his wording. He had not meant to provoke such a reaction in his father, only to distract him from his worries, and get Legolas something for the pain he was undoubtedly concealing.

“I am not overly concerned father,” he answered. “It was a poor choice of words. Legolas seemed a little down, he did not join in the laughter or teasing of what was a truly amusing sight.” Realising as he spoke that it would not be wise to admit to such immature antics with his father in this kind of a mood, Elladan made an effort to conceal his actions. “He was amused for certain, yet it seemed to take a great effort for him to display it. He smiled but I think with no real feeling. I believe his head is troubling him far more than he wished to bother us with. He is sleeping peacefully now.”

Elrond did not seem to be relieved by his words, if anything Elladan’s description had increased his worry. “You said he was depressed,” he asked. “He looked depressed? Are you sure this was something he would have been amused at? Ah!” Raising a hand to prevent Elladan’s reluctant description of events he begged for a yes or no answer only. “I have little interest in what foolishness you and Elrohir have been perpetrating, I only wish for a simple yay or nay.”

“Yes father, it was deeply humorous,” Elladan answered, relieved. “Elrohir made such a sight. I did not say Legolas was depressed, just a little down. I do not think he slept well, he certainly seemed tired.”

Worry easing just slightly at Elladan’s amended description, Elrond nodded. “He was not depressed just tired and hurting, you think?” he inquired.

“Yes father, he did appreciate the humour, but was just too listless to make any effort.” Elladan did not notice his father’s concern sharpen at his last description. “Is there anything you would like me to give him? Or would you prefer to examine him yourself?”

“If you could take him something light to eat for when he next awakens; I do not think he will feel up to eating much,” Elrond answered. “I will check up on him later. I have much research that needs doing.”

Elladan nodded in agreement. “He was not hungry earlier, but I will do as you ask.” Seeking to appease his father, and sooner allow him to rest Elladan offered his aid. “Will you be needing any help with your research, any books fetched?”

Elrond, looked searchingly at his eldest son, tempted at the offer. Muttering something beneath his breath that his son did not catch he shook his head. “Thank you no, Elladan. You should arrange for the food to be prepared, and have something yourself while you are in the kitchens.”

“Yes father.” Elladan grimaced to himself that Elrond could show such concern over him to pay attention to a very quietly rumbling stomach, but completely dismiss Estel’s needs. Still he had promised not to mention this any further to his father, so he obediently left.

As soon as Elladan was beyond earshot Elrond lowered his head into his hands, groaning in despair and exhaustion. “Would that I could entrust you with this,” he pleaded. “But I will not lay this concern upon you unless it becomes absolutely necessary. I would not have you learn of my failings.” Muttering to himself he supported his head on one hand, while carefully studying his journals. “Depressed, listless, it’s happening all over again. Oh Valar what shall I do? Estel! You idiot. Why did it have to be Rucin? Why!”