Disclaimer: same as before, Tolkien owns all, I own nothing, yada, yada, yada

                                             Chapter 7

                          Thranduil was startled out of a light doze when his son began to thrash about deliriously believing himself to be back in the clearing and under attack. Thranduil swiftly, but gently restrained him reassuring him in Sindarin that he was indoors and safe. Legolas quieted, but it was apparent that his condition was worsening. He was now feverish, and risked re-opening his wounds if he was not kept calm and still. The Elven king looked up at Letha and Weder for any assurance that there was another antidote that could be tried. Letha was busying herself doing just that while Weder approached to make certain that the prince’s wounds had not begun to bleed again. No harm had been done and Weder smiled reassuringly at Thranduil before returning to Letha’s side to assist the herb-woman. As soon as the potion was ready, Letha hurried to Legolas’ side to administer it. This time proved more difficult and in the end they were forced to pour it into the wounded elf’s mouth and clamp his mouth and nose shut to force him to swallow the bitter liquid.

                        Thranduil was becoming more and more fearful of losing his son as the hours passed. He had lost all track of time and found it necessary to inquire as to how close it was until dawn. Letha assured him that dawn was less that an hour away, then excused herself.

                         
                         Letha hurried down the corridor to the courtyard door. It was imperative that she reach the messenger before he departed. As long as Elrond did not know the identity of the elves at the Keep, he might only send members of his household to fetch them. If Legolas were to survive, Letha was certain nothing less that the skills of the Elven lord himself would be necessary. She had no intention of allowing the prince to perish while it was in her power to prevent it. She also knew that if he did die, it was unlikely that his father would live very long after. Letha had lived all her days in close proximity to Rivendell and had more knowledge that most of her race about the customs and peculiarities of the Eldar race. She reached the doorway and fairly ran out into the yard toward the stables. The first faint rays of the rising sun were just peeking over the horizon as she reached the stable door.

                           To her vast relief, the messenger was only just finishing the inspection of his horse’s tack when she rushed into the stables. Breathlessly she made her request and was relieved when the messenger readily agreed to relay her message to Lord Elrond, and only to Lord Elrond. She watched as he rode out at a full canter toward the Elf lord’s home. Sighing, and breathing a prayer for assistance, she hurried back into the Hall to her charge.

                        In Imaldris, the dawn found the Last Homely House in a rare state of uproar. In the early hours of the morning, several riderless horses had entered the valley to the surprise of the border guards. It was obvious that the horses had belonged to elves, by the look of their tack, but no riders anywhere to be found.  The horses were taken to the stables, and Lord Elrond was summoned to view the unusual arrivals, as he frequently observed more than even the average elf and might be able to solve the mystery behind the animals’ appearance.  Elrond inspected the animals and their tack with a growing sense of forboding. His worst fears were realized when he came to the last two horses. Both animals bore tack that was subtly embroidered with a hauntingly familiar pattern. Beckoning to a member of his household, he requested that his sons and foster son be summoned to the stable yard immediately.

                          Elladan, Elrohir, and Estel arrived minutes later, yawning and hair still touseled from sleep. Estel was the first to notice the horses.

                          "Where is Legolas," he asked. looking around for his friend.

                           "Estel, the horses arrived without riders." Elrond knew of no way to soften the news, so he simply stated the facts.

                            " Ada! He wouldn't just lose his horse, he has to be somewhere hurt, or..." Estel swallowed hard.

                          “Estel, we do not know that anything has happened.” Elrond gripped his foster son’s shoulder tightly. “ All we know is that the horses arrived without their riders, and because there are two horses with the tack of the Royal House of Mirkwood, I think it safe to assume that wherever Legolas is, his father is also.”

                           Estel slipped out from under his foster father’s hand and began to walk swiftly back to his room. Elrond called him back, “ Estel, where do you believe that you are going?”

                             “ I have to go, Ada. I have to find Legolas.” Estel’s face was set in an expression that told anyone at a glance that he would not be denied.

                              Elrond nodded his consent and turned to his twin sons, “ Let us go get dressed and we will be on our way within the hour. I assume you two are coming along as well?” He wore a well practiced, resigned expression on his ageless face. Estel was already through the door and halfway to his room.

                              “ Ada, “ sighed Elrohir rolling his eyes, “ Need you even ask that?” He and his twin bowed to their father and followed Estel into the house.

                                 Less than an hour later, a troop of riders left Imladris heading in the direction the horses had come. Elrond was lost in thought . He was the only one in Imladris that had known that Thranduil and Legolas were expected for the festival. He also knew that Thranduil was traveling incognito. What could have happened to them? He refused to share his concerns with his sons, particularly Estel, but as soon as Estel had confirmed his guess about the tack, he feared that both Legolas and Thranduil were lost. Elrond sent up a fervent prayer that he was wrong.

                               Thranduil stepped back from his son's pallet with a wince. Legolas was becoming more and more disoriented. He no longer recognised his father's voice and had begun to suffer from halluciations. Thranduil and Weder had just had to hold him down to keep him from opening the wounds in his shoulder and thigh. During the altercation, Legolas had managed to not only split his father's lip, but had landed a hard blow on Thranduil's right knee. Weder had not escaped harm either and was sporting the beginnings of a blackened eye.

                              "Thankfully, most of my patients are not so strong as your son," Weder chuckled ruefully, attempting to lighten the mood in the room a bit. To his surprise, he got a response.

                               " If they were, and you chose to remain a healer, I would begin to doubt your sanity." Thranduil smirked at the healer a moment, before returning his attention to Legolas. " He is getting worse."

                               " Aye, he is. But while he lives, there is hope that he will be strong enough to survive long enough for the effects of the poison to wear off. Letha and I are not willing to give up on him, my Lord. Do not you give up on him, either. If anything can pull him through, it's you fighting for him. I have seen that make the difference many times." Weder stated bluntly. He had developed a fair measure of respect for this brusque elf over the course of the last few hours. "Come, the women have brought us some breakfast. You must eat and care for yourself so that you can care for him. Remember, you have injuries as well." Weder brooked no disobedience from any patient, elf-lord or human.

                                As Thranduil allowed the human healer to usher him to the table, he realized that Letha was no longer in the room. He had not seen her leave, and had no idea where she had gone. Before he could voice a question to Weder about the herb woman's whereabouts, Weder placed a full plate in front of the elf and in a voice that would have done Thranduil himself proud ordered the elf to eat. Thranduil shot the healer a look that would have had a member of his household quaking in their boots, but did as the human bade him. Weder merely raised an eyebrow at him, then began to heed his own advice and filled a plate for himself. Thranduil ate lightly choosing only fruit and bread, human meals were not to his liking. As he was finishing, Letha entered the hall from a small door at the left. She carried a basket filled with herbs. She immediately crossed to the hearth and began brewing another potion. Looking up at Weder and Thranduil, she smiled reassuringly.

                                 " So far we have been trying to counteract the poison, now we will treat each symptom as it appears. Right now Weder and I believe that our best chance lies in easing his discomfort, and supporting his strength."

                                 " Very well, Mistress Letha. What must we do?" Thranduil asnwered the herb woman without a pause.

                                 "We will keep giving him teas to fight ease the effects the  poison is having on his body, and broth to nourish him. You will be the best medecine, I think. Even when he does not seem to hear you, he knows that you are with him. Your task will be to talk to him, reassure him, sing to him if you wish, whatever you can think of to anchor him here. He is weak and in considerable pain. He is halluciating, and his mind will tell him terrible things. He needs you to make the ill dreams the lie that they are and give him enough reason to keep fighting." Letha hesitated a moment, then made her way to Thranduil's side. She spoke so softly that only an elf could have heard, " King Thranduil, I believe Weder can be trusted with your secret, I think you should tell him. It may become important that someone else knows." She met his eyes unflinchingly.

                                 " Mistress Letha, by now you know that I trust you both with my son's health, but what has happened?" Realization dawned, and the color drained from his face, " You think my son will not survive this."

                                 " I think he will with help. That is why I wish you would be honest with Weder," she replied, a serene expression on her face. " A healer always works better when he knows what is at risk."

                                  " I will consider your words, but I cannot give you an answer now. If you know anything about my kind, you know why I find it difficult to trust mortals." Thranduil's eyes were as hard as flint for a moment, then he looked at the pallet by the hearth and his expression softened. " I will think on this, that I do promise you."

                                  " I know that you will make the right decision. You love your son too much to do otherwise, " Letha smiled at him and returned to the hearth and the potion she was brewing.

                                 During this intense exchange, Weder wisely kept his distance. He was aware that Letha knew more about the two elves than she was telling, but he was content to bide his time. If it was something he needed to know she would make certain he was told. They had known each other for many years and had worked side by side for most of that time. He trusted her implicitly. With a tired sigh, and a wince for his now blackened eye he rose and made his way to his charge's makeshift bed. A thorough look confirmed that the wounds were healing well, with no sign of infection. The sole enemy was the poison. Weder was far more concerned about the elf than he was allowing any to see. It was never wise to show worry to a patient's family, especially when that family was as obviously close as these two were. He found himself hoping fervently that Lord Elrond would decide to accompany whomever came to collect the two elves. They were in dire need of his skills.

                                 Thranduil had resumed his preferred place, sitting against the wall with his son's head pillowed on his thigh. He rested his head back against the cool stone of the wall, deep in thought. Letha's words had created a great debate within him. On one side, he could not falt her logic. On the other, he had lived for many centuries with his deep distrust of all mortals. His internal debate continued until he fell into an light doze, exhausted from the fight the night before, his own wounds, and his worry for his son.

                                  The sun had reached it's zenith when the group from Imladris stopped to briefly rest and feed their horses and themselves. The trail left by the riderless horses was clear and very easy to follow, but the terrain was rough. Estel was anxious to be back in the saddle, but wise enough to know that tired, hungry horses would slow them down. They were not far off the track between Imladris and Greenglade Keep, and Elladan wondered aloud if they might not be wise to head there to see if the Greenglade patrols had seen any sign of the missing ones. After a short debate, Elrond decided that they would head for the Keep. They mounted their horses and turned towards the track.

                                  Estel was not happy. He had argued strenuously for continuing to follow the horses' trail, feeling that Legolas would not have gone near a human settlement for help, especially if his father was with him. He was more than a little surprised when Elrond decided to go the other direction. Of them all, Elrond had known Legolas and Thranduil the longest. He of all of them should have known it was not likely that the humans would have found any trace of the King and Prince of Mirkwood. He brooded for awhile, before ruefully reminding himself to act his age and approached his foster father to ask him what had made him make this decision. Elrond merely said that he simply felt that this was the best way to proceed and volunteered no further information. Estel knew his foster father well enough to know that he would receive no further insights and held his tongue.

                                  The group had only been traveling for less than an hour when they heard the unmistakable sound of another rider approaching. The stranger's horse moved at a canter, unusual for a mere traveler not that there were many of those on this track. As he came into view, his tack and livery identified him as a messenger from Greenglad Keep. He approached the group warily at first, then a huge grin crossed his face as he recognised them.

                                 "Well met, Lord Elrond! You have saved me a longer ride, as I was sent with messages for you." The rider called out as he came within a human's hearing range of the Imladris residents. He took a deep breath, and began his recitation, " Lord Feren sends his regards and greetings and hopes all is well in Rivendell. He begs your assistance with a situation that has occurred in the Keep. Last night one of our patrols came across a group of elves that was being attacked by orcs and wargs. The patrol managed to run the orcs off, but by the time they had arrived, only two elves were left alive and one is very ill from poisoned arrow heads. If you would be willing to provide assistance Lord Feren would be most grateful."

                                 "How fortunate, good messenger, for we were riding to Greenglade Keep when we met up with you. Please, lead the way and we will be happy to assist Lord Feren in any way we are able." Elrond smiled politely keeping his face a pleasant mask, but in truth the rider's words had chilled him to the bone.

                                 "Lord Elrond, I also have a message from Mistress Letha," the rider turned his horse back in the direction he had come as he spoke. "She said to tell you that Legolas needs your skills." The rider looked puzzeled, but relayed his message nonetheless. He was surprised to see Elrond's eyes sharpen, then turn to his foster son.

                                 " Messenger, I suggest we proceed with haste," Elrond stated flatly, spurring his horse into a canter. The rest of the group followed suit and headed toward Greenglade Keep.

                              Legolas was burning with fever and mumbling incoherently in Sindarin. Thranduil and Weder had stripped him of his tunic and were bathing his face and torso with cool water in an attempt to bring down his body temperature. Letha had brewed another potion for the fever, and thay had administered it only moments ago. Weder spoke soothingly to his patient as he sponged the elf's chest. Thranduil looked away from his son's face and met Weder's eyes for a moment.

                              "His name is Legolas, and I am Thranduil."