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                                                          Chapter 10

                                                 It was well after midnight when Thranduil stirred, coming out of the heavy sleep he had fallen into almost before his head had touched the pallet. His eyes immediately sought Legolas, and he relaxed as he took note of the younger elf’s improved color and easier breathing. A faint smile touched his lips as he noted the young human seated by Legolas’ head. Estel had dozed off, but a tanned hand rested on Legolas’ chest. If his son so much as sighed heavily, Estel would awaken. Thranduil was too weary still to remain awake for very long, and having reassured himself that his son was in no danger, he sank back into sleep.

                                                   Estel woke to a faint noise in the room. From under his lashes, his gaze swept the room. Looking down, he grinned at the source of the noise. Thranduil had shifted position and was now resting on his side facing Legolas, one hand resting on his son’s chest next to Estel’s own hand. The Elven king was sound asleep, eyes half lidded and unfocused. Estel’s smile widened briefly as he considered the elder of the two elves next to him. Thranduil had a reputation outside his realm of being cold and emotionless. The young human shook his head ruefully. Anyone who believed that notion had likely never set eyes on him. While it was true that Thranduil was frequently stubborn and could be very stern, he certainly was not cold. One had only to see him with his son to realize that. Estel suppressed a chuckle; the human population at Greenglade Keep was certainly getting an education in elven behavior.

                                                      Estel turned his attention to Legolas. While his color was better and there was no sign of fever, he was still ill enough to be sleeping with his eyes closed. The human grimaced. They had come so close to losing him this time. Estel shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position. A noise drew his attention to the doorway. The door opened quietly, and Letha slipped in. Seeing Estel awake, she smiled at him and made her way across the room.

                                                  “Were you not supposed to be asleep?” Estel asked wryly. “I thought Elladan, Elrohir, and I were the only ones brave enough to risk Adar’s wrath.”

                                                   “Well, what he does not know cannot harm him, or me.” Letha grinned. “I certainly will not tell him if you do not.”

                                                    “I can tell you from experience, Mistress Letha, that never works. He always finds out somehow.” Estel rolled his eyes dramatically then returned her grin.

                                                    “Be that as it may, you young scapegrace, I wish to check on my charges. How are they faring?”  Letha smiled down at the two sleeping elves fondly.

                                                    “I, for one, would fare better if not awakened from sleep by chattering squirrels, “Thranduil stated, rolling onto his back. A sly, teasing grin took the sting out of his words. Estel shook with suppressed laughter as Letha’s jaw literally dropped, so surprised was she at being teased by the Elven king. “To answer your question, Mistress Letha, I am much improved, but still weary.” He appeared to consider for a moment, then continued, “And more than a little hungry it seems.” He pushed himself off his pallet slowly, careful not to disturb his son.

                                                       “Rest yourself, King Thranduil; I will fetch some bread and cheese. Fruit as well, if I can find some. I will return shortly.” Letha slipped out the door and was gone before Estel could comment. Sitting back down on the pallet, Thranduil turned his attention to Estel.

                                                         “He will be very happy to see you when he wakes, “Thranduil said softly. “ He has missed you, and your brothers.” Thranduil brushed a strand of pale hair from his son’s face as he spoke. Estel merely nodded, sensing that Thranduil needed to speak more than he needed a reply. “He could hardly keep still on the journey here; he was so looking forward to seeing the three of you. It reminded me of when we used to visit back and forth to Imladris when he was an elfling.”

                                                 “He is going to be all right. Ada would not say so if it were not true.” Estel replied in a calm voice. Thranduil seemed to shake himself out of his downward spiral and nodded.

                                                  “I know. I am weary, and grieving the loss of our escort and am becoming maudlin because of it.” He shook his head ruefully. “Perhaps once I deal with my stomach and rest again I will be more myself.”

                                                   “You will be more yourself when Legolas opens his eyes and speaks to you.” Estel met the Elven king’s eyes squarely. Thranduil smiled faintly.

                                                    “When did a human whelp become wiser than an elf?” He asked, shaking his head in mock disgust. Estel grinned at him unrepentantly, but was prevented from further comment by Letha’s arrival with the food.

                                                     “By the Valar, woman, how much do you expect that I will eat? There is enough there for a small army.” Thranduil quipped, eyeing the heavily laden tray in Letha’s hands. The herb woman chuckled.

                                                      “But there are two of you and one is a young man. I have sons; I know how much young men eat. Believe me when I say that this may not be enough.” She arched an eyebrow at Estel, challenging him to dispute her statement. He had the grace to blush, but did not refute her words. Smiling at them once more, Letha excused herself and returned to her bed.

                                                          Thranduil sighed looking over the selection of food on the tray. The fruit looked good, but the bread and cheese did nothing for him. Estel grinned enigmatically and rising walked to his pack. He rummaged in it for a moment before returning with a packet in his hand. He offered it to Thranduil with a smug smile. Thranduil raised an eyebrow, but accepted the packet and opened it.

                                                          “Lembas! Estel, I thank you. As much as I do appreciate Letha’s efforts, human food simply is not to my liking.” He caught up two of the fruits and settled down next to the hearth with his meal.

                                                 “Think nothing of it. I will take care of the rest of it, “Estel returned with a grin. “ I am very hungry myself.” He proceded to make inroads into the bread and cheese. The room was silent while both satisfied their hunger. After he finished his fruit and lembas Thranduil rose, stretching like a contented cat and returned to his pallet. He settled himself on his side, facing his son again with one hand extended to rest back on Legolas’ chest. Within moments, he was again asleep. Estel finished the food on the tray and set it aside. He laid a hand on Legolas’ brow briefly, checking for fever and finding no sign of it. He settled himself against the wall once more; resting a hand next to Thranduil’s on his friend’s chest and drifted back into a light doze.

                                                  He woke again when the chest under his hand shifted slightly. Estel looked down to meet a blue-grey gaze and a tired smile. He smiled back, sagging with relief at his friend’s lucid gaze. He glanced at Thranduil, but the Elven king had not yet awakened. Legolas turned his head, following Estel’s gaze and his eyes widened as he took in the sight of his father stretched out next to him. Estel gripped Legolas’ forearm briefly, then stood and exited the room almost as silently as an elf.

                                                   Legolas stared at his father’s sleeping face. Despite the hours of rest that he had gotten, Thranduil looked as weary and careworn as if he were twice that age that he actually was. A strand of hair as golden as his son’s had fallen across his face, and Legolas reached out to smooth it back. At the light touch, Thranduil’s eyes focused and then widened as he realized that Legolas was awake and aware. A smile bloomed upon his face, chasing some of the weariness away. Without a word, he sat up and gathered his son into a warm embrace, careful not to jostle Legolas’ wounded shoulder or leg. Legolas’ wrapped his good arm tightly around his father’s shoulders and buried his face in Thranduil’s neck. Adult though he was, Legolas was still young enough to accept hugs from his parent, especially under circumstances such as these.After a few moments, Thranduil released him and lowered him gently back onto his pallet.

                                                    “I thought I had lost you, ion-nin, “Thranduil said, his voice husky with emotion. “ I do not ever want to come that close again.”

                                                             To Be Continued