Disclaimer: Not mine and never will be. Only the plot and the OCs are mine. No profit is being made beyond my enjoyment in writing these wonderful characters. For the full header, see chapter one.

Warning: This story contains mature content. Mentions of rape, torture, murder, and capitol punishment, while not graphic or gratuitous, are contained within. Reader discretion is suggested. This one’s not for kids, folks!

                                                    ~

Legolas shifted slightly, forcing his reluctant eyes to open. He searched the room for his father, a deep frown marring his features, as he remembered why Thranduil was not hovering over him. He tried to speak, but his words emerged as a croak. Gimli was at his side in a second; supporting his head and shoulders and holding a cup of blessedly cool water to his lips. His first instinct was to drink deeply, but the dwarf firmly restrained him.

“Not too much to start with, laddie. You don’t want it coming back up, do you?” Gimli was smiling, relief evident in his face and manner.

“Nay,” Legolas responded faintly. “I like my food and drink to remain on the inside once it is there.”

“Ah, now you’re sounding a bit more like yourself. Good, your father’ll be glad to hear it.”

“Where is he, Gimli?” Legolas’ fear for his father’s well-being was plain for any to see, and the dwarf squeezed his shoulders in sympathy.

“Right over there, lad, and he’s holding his own so stop your fretting.”

The prince’s eyes followed his friend’s gesture, to see Thranduil laying on a bed that had been placed in the room specifically for his use. The Elvenking’s eyes were closed, but his bare chest rose and fell steadily. Luinloth lifted the cloth that he had placed on his king’s brow, dipping it in a bowl of athelas-infused water before wringing out the excess and placing it back on the woodland king’s overheated forehead. Thranduil twitched when the cool cloth met his skin, but made no other move. His assistant then took up another cloth and began to bathe Thranduil’s face, arms, and chest with the athelas-water.

“He’s fevered, and has been for some while now, but he doesn’t seem to be in pain like he was before. It’s a good sign, Legolas.”  Gimli eyed the archer critically. “How are you feeling?”

“Better, I believe. It no longer hurts.” His eyelids drooped. “But I am tired.”

“Just a moment, before you drop off again you need another dose.” Gimli reached behind himself to pick up a vial off the small table that normally stood by Legolas’ bed. “Bottoms up, lad. It’s best to drink it quick.” Legolas pulled a face, but drank the bitter potion without comment. “Here, this’ll wash the taste out of your mouth.” The dwarf held another mug to his friend’s lips, this one filled with watered-down fruit juice. “Aragorn never has bothered masking the foul taste of his concoctions.”

“Perhaps he believes that warriors need no cosseting?” Legolas murmured, his head lolling against Gimli’s shoulder.

“Either that, or it’s habit bred from treating injuries gained in hare-brained stunts,” Gimli replied, easing the elf back onto his pillows. An indistinct murmur was his only answer as Legolas drifted into a true sleep, his eyelids sliding completely closed. The dwarf laid his hand on the elf’s shoulder, giving it a brief squeeze. The corner of the elf’s mouth curved into a slight smile, and he sank deeper into his dreams.

                                                 ~

“Legolas is improving steadily, but Thranduil shows no improvement,” Elladan stated, rubbing the back of his neck irritably. “Have you any suggestions, brothers-mine? I admit that I am at a loss for ideas at the moment.”

“He is not improving, however neither is he worsening.” Elrohir  pointed out. He looked from his twin to Elessar and back. “Personally, I think it is simply that Legolas’ body has dealt with poison so many times that it is better equipped to handle it than the body of one who has not. That we know of, the one instance of Morgul poisoning is the only experience Thranduil has had.”

“Luinloth would know for certain, but that is neither here nor there at present,” Aragorn said, absently picking up a piece of bread off the tray on the table he and the twins were seated around. “Increasing the dosage of the antidote would be as dangerous as the poison, and his fever may very well be a reaction to the antidote instead of a result of the poison. My thought on this is that we should lessen the dosage of antidote and treat his other symptoms as separate issues.” He dropped the bread back onto the platter and rose, pacing the room. “I have already instructed Luinloth to apply athelas-water to his skin in an effort to bring the fever down.”

“That is a good thought, Estel. The water will cool him, and the athelas certainly will do no harm and quite possibly could aid his resistance to the poison and other issues he is experiencing.” Elladan rose and crossed the room to stand beside Elessar. “I agree, and I will pay a visit to the Houses of Healing for the required herbs.”

“I will go and see if I can convince Luinloth to rest for an hour or two,” Elrohir said, rising from the table.

“I wish you well in that endeavor, brother,” Elladan commented with a tired grin. “He is as stubborn as his king.”

“True. Do you think perhaps that Gimli could be persuaded to rest now that Legolas is on the mend?”

“Perhaps, if there were someone to sit with Legolas in case he wakes again,” Elladan ventured, rubbing his neck again.

“We have no lack for volunteers, brother,” Elrohir pointed out. “Is your neck paining you, Elladan?”

“’Tis only that I have slept in a chair the last couple of days, Elrohir. Why yours is not sore as well is a mystery to me.”

“Elrohir has the sense to ask for help when he hurts,” Elessar commented flatly, giving the eldest twin a pointed look.

“I have had more pressing issues to attend to,” Elladan stated with a scowl.

“You are as bad as Adar when it comes to seeing to yourself,” Elrohir retorted, scowling back at his twin.

“Elrohir, why do you not go get the herbs while I see to Elladan,” Aragorn suggested, attempting to head off the rare squabble that loomed between the brothers. ”And then I think that both of you should rest for a few hours. As Elrohir said, we have no lack for volunteers to sit with both Legolas and Thranduil.” The twins traded a look.

“Estel, you are no better off than we are in that area,” Elladan returned softly.

“On the contrary,” the king said with a slightly sheepish grin, “Luinloth and Gimli insisted that I spend a couple of hours sleeping while I was in with them last evening. I am not overly tired right now but you are, my brothers, especially if you are on the verge of arguing with each other.” The twins traded another look.

“I hate it when he is right, “ Elrohir commented. His twin nodded.

“Indeed, it makes him entirely too smug,” Elladan agreed, and then sighed deeply. “Very well, Estel. After we prepare the needed medicines, we will both rest for a couple of hours. However, you must give your word that you will summon us if there are any changes, and I mean any.”

“You have it,” Elessar stated, placing a hand on each twin’s shoulder and squeezing lightly.

                                                    ~

Elladan was walking the paths of the Golden Wood, the beauty surrounding him feeding his weary soul. He wandered aimlessly, with no firm destination in mind. His steps finally brought him to the bathing pools, and he indulged himself, swimming and soaking in the spring-fed waters. He came to rest at last on the stone ledge at the far side of the pool, leaning his head back and relaxing fully. He gradually became aware of someone calling his name.  He frowned, wondering who would be so inconsiderate as to disturb him in the bath…….

“Elladan, wake!” Arwen shook her eldest brother’s shoulder. “Elladan!” He groggily lifted his head from the pillow, scrubbing his fist against his eyes.

“Arwen, what is it? Has Thranduil’s condition changed?”

“Aye, his fever has lessened but that is not why I am here.” She smiled fondly at him.

“Do you intend to tell me sometime this age, sister-mine, or do you plan to leave me in suspense?” He sat up, running his hands through his hair. “How long have I rested?”

“Nearly a full day,” his sister replied, rummaging through his wardrobe. “Elladan, when was the last time you looked in here? Do you even own a tunic that is not torn? Ah, here we are!” She drew out a dark blue tunic and a shirt several shades paler. “Where do you keep your clean breeches?”

“The trunk at the end of the bed, if you must know. I am capable of dressing myself.” He arched a brow at her.

“I do not plan on dressing you, brother-mine. I am merely trying to expedite your morning routine.” She gestured at the doorway that connected his bedchamber with his sitting room, “There is a tray of food on the table. Why do you not eat while I have a bath drawn for you?” She tossed his dressing gown at him, turning her back so that he could rise from the bed and retain his modesty at the same time.

“Precisely why are we doing this?” he asked, drawing the gown on.

“You are needed, of course,” she replied. “Am I safe to turn around now?” He grunted non-commitally, stepping around her.

“Dearest sister, I am not nearly awake enough to play guessing games with you. Would you kindly come to the point and then remove your lovely self from my presence so that I can get on with whatever it is I am needed to do?”

“Very well, surly-one. You are needed to see to Serai.” His expression shifted from one of annoyance to one of concern and she continued. “Evidently, Serai has a would-be suitor and she is not reacting well to that fact. Rose has talked until blue in the face to no effect, so we thought perhaps the child would listen to you. She respects you and may heed your word where she would not heed mine or Rose’s.”

“Who is it?”

“One of the city guard, a good man by all accounts. Lorran, son of Lorris is his name.” She fished a pair of breeches that matched the tunic from the trunk. “He was one of the guards who returned Legolas to the Citadel. Both he and Gimli know Lorran from the War, evidently,” she added, almost as an afterthought. Elladan pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I can think of at least one legitimate reason that Serai would feel justified in turning down anyone’s suit.”

“As can I, so long as she did so for the right reasons. However, if she refuses any suit because she feels herself unworthy, she will be doing herself a grave disservice.” She met his eyes solemnly.

“I agree.” He gestured for her to precede him. “I will eat while my bath is prepared. I would not wish to frighten the child by looking like a troll.” Arwen chuckled.

“Brother-mine, at your worst you could never resemble a troll.” She rose to plant a kiss on his cheek. She crossed the sitting room, pausing in the doorway to deliver a parting shot. ‘An orc, perhaps, but never a troll.”

He threw a hunk of bread at her as she passed, laughing, through the doorway.

TBC, of course!