Sam reached for another apple and deftly peeled it, the peel coming off in one continuous spiral. As soon as it was peeled, he cored it, chopped it, and added it to the pot in front of him. By his side, Rose sprinkled spices and sugar over the pieces of dough she had just cut and placed on a large flat pan and carried the pan over to one of the enormous stone ovens built into the sides of the kitchen’s hearth. Returning to Sam’s side, she began to roll out another piece of dough. The hobbits worked quietly, listening to the chatter of the kitchen staff around them. One of the cooks approached them.

“That looks like pie dough,” she commented, looking over Rose’s shoulder.

“It’s something like it. My mum always baked these to be used in place of shortcake with fruit, but my brothers and sisters and I would always eat half of them before she even got the fruit done. Legolas is very fond of them,” Rose explained with a smile.

“He’s doing better then?”

“Some. He’s still got a ways to go, but he’s better.” Rose picked up the sharp knife and began cutting the dough into leaf and star shapes. “The shapes make him laugh,” she said, smiling at her husband. “Miri looks like she’s having a better day today than she was yesterday,” the hobbitess commented, nodding at one of the younger kitchen maids.

“Oh, she says her young lord is speaking to her again. Pay her no mind, like as not she’s talking out her hat anyways.” The cook shrugged. “If she wasn’t my cousin’s child she’d be out on her rump the way she’s been mooning about.” She did not notice the look that passed between the two hobbits.

“If she isn’t, I’d wonder about it. It don’t seem right, a young lord sniffing around after a kitchen maid,” Sam commented with feigned indifference.

“I would too, except that she’s never out of the kitchens when she’s working, we send Anira or Kessa if anyone needs a tray in their rooms,” the woman stated. “Miri’d go all mooncalf at any lord she saw, much less an elf.” She frowned in the girl’s direction. “Well, I’d best get back to my soup. Let me know if you need anything at all.” The hobbits thanked her as she walked away.

“Rose,” Sam said suddenly, “I’m low on nutmeg. I’ll only be a minute.” He hopped up and made his way over to the cabinet where the spices were kept, which incidentally was next to Miri. The girl was deep in conversation with Anira and took no notice of the hobbit as he perused the spices.

“Miri, you should be careful! Young lords usually only want one thing, and you know the king and queen don’t hold with that behavior like the old steward did.” Anira’s cheeks were flushed, and she kept her voice low. “You could end up in trouble, or worse.” She scowled at her friend. “Honestly, Miri, what do you think is going to happen with a young lord. He won’t marry you, you know.”

“Shows what you know! I’m meeting him tonight and we’re running away together.”

“Oh, Miri, don’t do it!”

Sam nonchalantly picked up the nutmeg and sauntered back to the table he was sharing with Rose.

“Rosie, how’s your supply of cinnamon holding out?” She eyed him for a brief moment.

“I’m running low. Is there some down here, or do I need to go back up to our room to fetch it?” she asked, betraying none of her curiosity.

“Oh, I’ll fetch it, if you’ll mix up the apples and get them started cooking for me.” He replied, meeting her eyes evenly.

“Good enough, then, but please remember to bring those lovely fruits that Elrohir found for us in the market yesterday. I think they’d make a wonderful trifle.” She smiled winningly at him and he chuckled.

“Rosie-lass, you’ll have Legolas fattened up in no time!”

“That’s my aim,” she replied, winking saucily at him. “His father could use a bit of fattening, too, if you ask me.” He chuckled again and departed, stopping at the door only long enough to collect his escort of guardsmen.

                                                         ~

Legolas looked quickly around the room. Gimli was slumped in the chair next to the bed his elven companion rested in, snoring quietly for once. Luinloth had been persuaded to retire for the night, the sons of Elrond having assured him that they would watch over the king and the prince. Said Elrondionnath were both curled in chairs on the far side of the room beyond the bed that held Legolas’ father. The younger elf gave the room a quick once over again before pushing back his covers and slowly sitting up. He carefully swung his legs over the edge of the bed, pausing a moment to both gather his strength and make certain that all were still asleep. With painstaking slowness, and great effort, he stood. He swayed dangerously, and almost fell before catching himself by gripping the bedpost tightly.

Slowly, shakily, he crossed the distance between his bed and the cushioned chair that sat vacant next to Thranduil’s bed. Sighing silently in relief, and trembling with exhaustion, he sank gratefully into the chair. It was several minutes, spent leaning back into the chair with closed eyes, before he was able to focus his attention on the object of his covert action. Reaching out with a hand that still shook, he lightly stroked his father’s still face. Thranduil shifted, his head turning slightly towards his son, but his eyes remained closed. Leaning forward, he laid his head on the pillow next to his father’s and began to speak softly to the Elvenking. Thranduil’s eyelids fluttered for a moment before lifting. Legolas could see his father’s eyes slowly focus on him and a slight smile formed on the older elf’s face.

“Ion-nin,” he whispered. Legolas smiled back, the hand not resting on Thranduil’s face moving down to clasp his father’s hand.

“Ada-nin,” the younger elf responded, eliciting another smile from his father.

“Worry not, Legolas, it would take much more than this to finish me,” Thranduil stated, his weakened condition very evident in his voice.

“Nay, you are far too stubborn for that,” his son returned, still grinning.

“So are you, the acorn falls not far from the oak.” Thranduil’s voice was softer yet, his eyelids drooping. “I know perfectly well that you are not supposed to be out of bed.”

“I am well enough to make it across the room unaided,” his son retorted, with a grin. Legolas smoothed Thranduil’s hair back from his face as Thranduil sighed and closed his eyes. “Rest, Ada. I will be right here.”

                                                       ~

Gimli, son of Gloin, woke with a start to the warmth of sunlight on his face, his eyes instantly going to the bed beside his chair. It was empty. The dwarf leaped out of his chair, his eyes darting around the room until they fell on the slumped figure occupying the chair next to the bed across the room. Moving much faster than most would give a dwarf credit for being able to move, he closed the distance between himself and the errant archer, immediately checking for signs of relapse. There were none, Legolas was merely asleep, and Gimli heaved a great sigh as the tension left him. Amusement came in its wake, and he chuckled, waking the twin peredhil at the far side of the room. As soon as their eyes focused, Elladan and Elrohir traded sardonic looks before unfolding their tall frames from their respective chairs.

“He is up to his usual tricks, I see. We could ask for no better sign that he is on the mend,” Elladan commented, running a hand through his tangled locks. “Let us put him back to bed, brother.”

“Nay,” Elrohir countered as Gimli opened his mouth to object as well, “Let him be. ‘Twill be to Thranduil’s benefit as well as Legolas’.”

“Aye, the lad’s been fretting about his father.” The dwarf walked back over to Legolas’ bed and picked up the blanket. Crossing back to the archer’s side, he tucked the blanket around his friend’s sleeping form. The twins judiciously hid their smiles.

The door to the sitting room opened, revealing Luinloth, Serai, and Rose Gamgee. Luinloth’s eye’s quickly flicked over his king and prince before addressing Gimli and the twins.

“There have been some developments that you need to be aware of. The three of us will stay with my lords, you are needed in Elessar’s council chamber as quickly as you can reach it.”

Elladan and Elrohir turned to each other, each straightening the other’s hair and clothing with an expedience that suggested a great deal of practice. Gimli merely ran a hand along his braided hair and beard and settled his tunic. That done, the twins and the dwarf hurried to the king’s council chamber.

                                                     ~

“’Tis a fortunate thing that most Big Folk tend to underestimate hobbits,” Merry commented, a look of smug satisfaction on his face. “And doubly fortunate that our Sam is a first rate eavesdropper.”

“I’ve been keeping both ears open in the kitchens ever since Legolas and King Thranduil were poisoned, just in case,” Sam replied, his cheeks a bit red and Merry’s left-handed praise. “So has Rosie, for that matter.”

“I dare say that kitchen maid has cause to be grateful to you for it,” Elladan stated from his seat at the open window, his expression grim. “You probably saved her life today.”

“How is she?” Sam asked, his expression one of concern.

“Shaking in her very shoes at the thought that she had anything to do with this,” Aragorn replied, chewing on the stem of his pipe. “If I needed any proof that she was an innocent that Lithmor duped into helping him, that would be enough.” He shook his head. “She will need to be watched constantly for her own safety, both from the perpetrators of this plot and herself, I fear. She is so despondent that I fear she may try to take her own life.”

“Legolas would forgive her instantly, Estel, if he knew the circumstances surrounding her involvement. Perhaps he should be the one to speak with her.” Elrohir opined from his perch on the window opposite Elladan. “It might help her heal.”

“Perhaps. In the meantime, we need to form a plan on how best to use this valuable information,” Aragorn Elessar stated, pacing the floor and puffing on his pipe.

“If she wasn’t so fragile, I’d suggest using the girl as bait to catch the snake,” Merry piped up, his eyes narrowed in concentration. ‘We might still be able to make it work, though,” he continued, his eyes meeting Eowyn’s. The White Lady looked sharply at him and then a wicked grin spread over her face.

“It would serve him right to get caught by a female after what he has done, both to the poor little maid and to the elf lady he helped murder, not to mention what he’s done to Legolas and his father. If we decide to do this, I am willing to play the bait to the trap,” Eowyn stated firmly, her chin lifting in a gesture that could only be seen as defiant. Her husband studied her for a moment before nodding.

“I have seen him spar. The smallest of the pages could best him in a fight.” He smiled at his fiery wife. “Eowyn would have his guts for bowstrings inside a minute, if it came to that.”

“Where was the maid supposed to meet him?” Elladan asked, rising from his seat now that the pipe weed was gone.

“The alley leading down to the barracks. At that time of night, it is dark, lonely, and the perfect place to rid oneself of a loose end,” Elessar responded, frowning fiercely. “And he would think it all to the good to make it appear as if one of the citadel guard was responsible for the act.”

“There are good spots all along that alley to place archers, if memory serves,” Elrohir said, abandoning the window to move closer. “’Tis a pity that Legolas is not up to drawing his bow as yet, for it will be too dark for men to sight on a target at that hour.”

“Yes, but there are enough blind corners that we can station swordsmen every few feet,” Elladan returned, frowning in concentration, “and you and I could conceal ourselves on either side of the meeting place easily.” He grinned at Eowyn. “After all, why should we let the lady have all the fun?” She grinned in return, and Faramir chuckled.

“Lithmor will be in for a rather nasty surprise, I fear.”

                                                     ~

Serai glanced over her shoulder. Behind her Rose Gamgee was very efficiently mothering both convalescing elves, much to the amusement of Luinloth. The Elvenking had awakened only moments after the twins and Gimli had departed. Groggy from his long period of unconsciousness, and considerably weakened, he was still an elf to be reckoned with, however, and a very difficult patient.

At the moment, Rose was carefully holding a spoonful of broth to Thranduil’s lips while she fussed at Legolas to allow Luinloth to assist him into the bathing chamber and into the bath the dark haired elf had prepared for him. At a stern look from his father, the younger elf acquiesced and disappeared through the doorway, leaning on Luinloth for support.

“He will feel much more himself after he’s had his bath,” Rose stated as she held another spoonful of broth to Thranduil’s lips. From his carefully blank expression, Serai knew perfectly well that he would have liked to have scowled at her, but was far too well mannered to do so. Rose smiled sweetly. “So will you.” His eyebrows rose into his hairline for a moment before his expression turned rueful and he chuckled.

“I have been told many times what I trying convalescent I am, Mistress Gamgee. You have more patience than most.” He accepted another spoonful of the broth before making a face. “No more of that for now, I think. It is not settling well.”

“Do you feel like it’s going to come back up?” The hobbit lady asked, watching his face intently.

“Not unless I have to ingest any more of it. No reflection on your laudable talents in the kitchen, Mistress, but I simply do not like broth.”

“Well, you could try some plain toasted bread if you want. I don’t expect that’d hurt you any,” she suggested, setting the broth aside and smoothing the blankets over him. “Just a moment and I’ll toast you a piece.” She climbed down from her perch on his bed and placed two slices of bread on a long handled fork that she held over the coals in the hearth.

The door to the bathing chamber opened, and Luinloth supported a heavily listing Legolas across the room to his bed. Serai hurried to support the side Thranduil’s assistant was not already shoring up. Legolas made a distressed noise, evidently intending to protest.

“Oh, I don’t mind, and you aren’t the least bit heavy.”

“Indeed, you have lost what little weight you had regained, Legolas,” Thranduil observed. “We shall have to remedy that.” He arched a brow at Rose who chuckled.

“Oh, I don’t see that being a problem,” she said, smiling at the blushing prince. “I made the spice dough that you like so much, and Sam stewed some apples for you to have after your elevensies.”

“Spice dough?” Serai asked, settling a blanket over Legolas’ lap. “What is spice dough?”

“It is very good,” Legolas said leaning back into his pillows with a sigh, heedless of his still-damp hair. Luinloth clucked his tongue at his charge, prompting him to sit forward enough to allow his father’s assistant to comb and towel-dry his locks.

“Well, there’s plenty of it,” the hobbitess said, turning the bread she was toasting. “I might even see to it that you get a piece or two, King Thranduil, if the bread stays down as it should.”

“As long as it is not broth, Mistress Rose, I am willing to try it,” the Elvenking said evenly, eliciting another chuckle from the hobbitess.

“I dare say that it might be better for you to eat a bit more before you have your bath, if my Lord Prince’s current state is any indication,” Luinloth observed acerbically. Legolas’ head had lolled onto Serai’s shoulder, the prince’s eyes all but closed in deep reverie. The human girl merely shifted him into a more comfortable position.

“He isn’t heavy, and really it just reminds me of my little brother,” she said, a bittersweet smile gracing her face.

“Oh, how old is your brother,” Rose asked, careful to keep her tone light. Serai seldom offered any information about her life prior to her discovery of Legolas in the basement of the wrecked house and the hobbitess had no wish to scare the girl into drawing her shutters again.

“He was five when he died,” Serai answered, unconsciously rocking the sleeping elf as if he was the child she spoke of.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Rose exclaimed. “How terrible for you to lose him!” Serai gave her a wan smile.

“He was the first one of us that got sick. My littlest sister was next, but she died before he did, probably because she was so small. She was only a month old. My mother got sick after my brother died, and then my other sister. They both died on the same day. I never got sick at all, so I took care of my father until he got better. He was never the same, though.” She shook herself, and drew a deep breath. “I thought that I might go work in the Houses of Healing when I grew up, but that won’t happen now.”

“Never say never, little one,” Luinloth said, laying a long-fingered hand gently over the girl’s hand with an expression of deep compassion in his dark grey eyes. “Even the wisest beings cannot say what may come to be.” Suddenly, an impish grin lightened his normally serious face. “I would hazard that anyone who can handle one so difficult as this one,” he gestured at Legolas, “Would be welcomed most heartily in the Houses of Healing.” For a wonder, the girl did not flinch away but returned his smile with a wobbly one of her own.

“He hasn’t been difficult at all,” she said, helping Luinloth settle the prince back onto his pillows. “He’s been very nice to me.”

“No, he saves the obstinence for those of us who have know him since he was in baby clouts,” Luinloth’s tone turned acerbic again. Serai snickered, and the expression on the dark haired elf’s face suggested to Rose that he had intended that to be her reaction. His eyes met the Elvenking’s over Serai’s head and Thranduil nodded approvingly. Rose tucked the information that the human girl had volunteered away until she could speak to her husband and King Elessar.

“Now, my lord,” Thranduil’s dark haired assistant said, crossing the room to his king’s side, “Let us get some toasted bread, and perhaps some spice dough into you so that I can help you remove the residue of the sickroom from your person.”

“Enjoy this whilst you can, Luinloth,” Thranduil said, his eyes narrowing. “I do not plan on being a convalescent for very much longer.”

“I assure you, sire, I await your recovery as much as you do,” his assistant replied, his expression deliberately neutral.

                                                           ~

Lithmor slipped silently down the alley, carefully looking back every so often to make certain that he was not being followed. A bit further down the alley, he could see the outline of a female figure but did not quicken his pace. One less loose end, he thought with a frown, and the sooner the better.

“Miri, sweet, I apologize for my tardiness,” he said, reaching out towards the shadowy figure. A hiss of steel was his only warning as the figure turned and a sword tip was placed at his throat.

“You have far more to apologize for than tardiness, worm,” a Rohan-accented voice stated flatly and Lithmor’s eyes widened as he looked down the sword blade and into the face of the former shieldmaiden.  He stepped back quickly and turned to flee, stopping short at the sight of another sword.

“Not a good decision, traitor,” tall warrior said, stepping into the light. Lithmor gasped at the sight of his liege-lord. He drew back again only to meet the swords of the sons of Elrond.

“You have much to answer for,” Elladan said, his expression as cold as his twin’s.

“Indeed, we have much to discuss,” a deep voice came from the darkness. Lithmor’s knees gave out and he sat down hard on the stone path as King Elessar stepped into the meager light. “And your fate will depend greatly on what you have to say.”

                                                       TBC……