“Sixteen!”

 “Seventeen!”

 “Twenty four!”

 “Twenty four?”

 “Ha!”

 Legolas Greenleaf, the prince of Mirkwood forest, grinned, his blue eyes sparkling as he watched two of his companions, Gimli, son of Gloin and Aragorn, son of Arathorn battle their way through the army of orcs who had just invaded the fortress Helm’s Deep. Despite the wretched weather conditions, the horrible smells of blood and the cries of the wounded and dying men, the three managed to find ways to amuse themselves.

 The Elf watched as Gimli sunk his axe into the gut of one of their enemy and continued shooting his arrows. It had been a VERY long couple of weeks for the three of them. Following the disappearance of Frodo and Sam and the captures of Merry and Pippin, the trio had quite a bit on their plate to worry about. ‘The least they need to worry about,’ Legolas thought silently to himself as he notched yet another arrow, ‘Is how I have been feeling lately.’ He successfully shot down his eighteenth orc in ten minutes when he thought back to earlier that morning when he’d woken up with a pounding pain in his head. The ache was still there, and he felt a slight burning sensation at the back of his throat. This was odd, for Elves were never ill, but Legolas learned quite a bit about illness from the ranger and the hobbits.

 “Eighteen!” Gimli shouted over the din, hurrying over to his Elven companion. “Not bad for a first timer, eh?”

 Legolas smirked. “Aragorn—there are many more approaching.” He pointed over the stone wall, and the ranger nodded.

 “Keep firing as many arrows as you can.”

 Legolas sighed as another army of orcs burst into the fortress and the fighting continued. He could suddenly hide it no more, and sunk to the ground, dissolving into a fit of harsh coughing. Aragorn stopped what he was doing when he noticed Legolas, and immediately went to the Elf’s side. “Are you all right?” He asked with concern in his dark eyes.
 “I feel strange, Aragorn.” Legolas whispered, once the coughing fit ended. “My head aches, as does my throat.”

 “You are ill?” The ranger raised an eyebrow. He placed a hand against Legolas’s forehead. “And burning with fever. We must get you to a safe hiding place. Gimli!” Aragorn darted over to the dwarf, who was twirling and slicing the stomachs of more and more orcs. “Legolas is ill—we must get him downstairs.”

 Gimli stopped fighting. “Ill you say? Impossible! Elves never fall ill.”

 “It is odd, I know, but he has a fever. Aid me in getting him to the caverns below.”

 The dwarf dodged an attempted assasination from behind as he hurried after Aragorn over to Legolas, who had his head cradled in his arms, looking very similar to a child. “Lean on me. There you are.” Aragorn helped Legolas to his feet, and with the help of the dwarf, they got him downstairs, where they were greeted by Eowyn.

 “Oh dear—what is the matter with him?” She asked with concern.

 Legolas let out a small sigh before collapsing to the ground, and both Aragorn and Gimli leapt back with surprise. Eowyn knelt down and felt the Elf’s forehead, frowning. “This is very strange. Elves do not get sick, am I correct? Or am I dreaming perhaps? Pinch me, Aragorn.” She held out her arm. The ranger raised an eyebrow.

 “I’d rather not, Eowyn. You are not dreaming. He is very ill and needs a healer.”

 Gimli watched as the ranger lifted his friend from the stone and brought him over to a mat that Eowyn had set up for herself to sit on while the battle raged above. The rest of the women who were hiding with her, watched with interest once Legolas was laying down.  “Is he hurt?” asked Eowyn, kneeling down beside the Ranger who was removing the Elf’s cloak.

 “He does not seem to be. He was fine ten minutes ago. He just collapsed.”

 It was at that moment that Legolas moaned and his blue eyes fluttered open. “Where ‘m I?” He asked in a hoarse voice. He still felt very strange. Eowyn dashed over towards her bag and pulled out a canteen filled with water, and went to hand it to Aragorn.

 “Have him drink some of this. It will help.” She said, bending down so she could peer into the Elf’s eyes. “How are you feeling?” She asked with concern. “How long have you been feeling this way?” She corrected herself.

 “Since—since the battle with orcs following Boromir’s fall.” He whispered, not struggling when Aragorn placed the tip of the canteen to his dry lips.

 “I see. Were you hurt at all? Did you get shot? Perhaps, Aragorn, one of the orcs shot him with a poisoned dart that took a while to go into effect.”

 “Why did you not tell us you were ill?” Aragorn demanded. “At the first sign of discomfort, Legolas, you should have informed me.”

 “I am sorry.” Legolas whispered. “I was foolish, but I am not familiar with signs of illness.”

 Gimli bowed his head, feeling downright awful. He and Legolas had become fairly close over the past couple of weeks, and he could not bare to see his good friend suffer so. Eowyn nodded, pouring some of the canteen water into a handkerchief. She gently blotted Legolas’s burning cheeks and forehead, when Theoden hurried towards them.

 “You are needed! Haldir has been killed—the orcs are multiplying!” He then noticed Legolas as well, but did not have the time or the patience to ask what had happened. He turned and fled back up to the fortress. Eowyn, as she ran a tender hand down Legolas’s arm, came upon a slight ridge sticking up from his shirt. Aragorn looked at Gimli. “Stay here. I’ll return soon.” He dashed after the king, leaving Eowyn and Gimli to look after the Prince.

 “Hold on.” She said quietly, and rolled up the sleeve to the shirt. Imbeded in the Elf’s flesh was the tip of an arrow. Clearly it had been there for weeks, for the blood around it had dried. He obviously had been so involved in the battle where he had received the wound, that he hadn’t thought about it afterwards. “So you have been feeling ill for at least two weeks then?” Eowyn asked. “You have an arrow tip in you.”

 “He does? Let me see that.” Gimli peered over Eowyn’s shoulder. “Legolas—you are hurt. The damned thing must have been filled with poison!”

 Legolas let out another moan when Eowyn attempted to extract the tip of the arrow from him, and she immediately ceased her job. “Legolas—I must remove this. At least if the arrow tip is gone………”

 “Forgive me, Lady Eowyn, but even if the arrow tip is gone from Legolas, surely the poison from the arrow has already circulated through him?” Gimli asked as Legolas let out another moan.

 “Is he all right?” A little girl hurried over to Eowyn. She had been sitting but a few feet away, munching on a piece of black bread and listening to the random chatter of the other women and children who were hiding in the same caverns.

 “He is very ill.” Eowyn explained. “I would stay away, little one, until we are certain he is not contagious. Do not announce his illness to anyone. I do not want to be responsible for a panic.” Eowyn told the girl with a gentle smile. “what is your name?”

 “Elorian.” The girl replied, smiling back. “He’s a handsome fellow, I must say, though.” She giggled before hurrying back over to her mother.”

 Eowyn turned back to Legolas, running a hand over the Elf’s forehead. “You’re going to be just fine, love.” She told him. “Hold on for us—I know that Aragorn and Gimli could not bare to loose you.”

 “Stubborn pointed ear ass.” Gimli grumbled.

 “Shhhh!” Eowyn warned as she peered up at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of the remaining battle. ‘Is this all you can give us, Saruman?’ she thought bitterly.

 “Never mind the commentary, Aragorn.” Eowyn said, standing up. “He needs to have the metal taken out of him immediately or it will infect him further.”

 Aragorn gaped at the fair-haired woman before him and then turned to the rest of the villiagers, who were watching the situation with wide eyes.

 “Please do not touch me,” Legolas begged. “It hurts.”

 “I understand it hurts. But Eowyn is correct—it must be removed.”

 “I can’t watch.” Gimli gasped and hurried to go stand in a corner as Aragorn pulled out a dagger from his belt. He was a healer, and had to remove the tip of the Morgul blade from Frodo months earlier, so he was experienced in this type of simple surgery. Eowyn looked at Gimli and then at Aragorn and back down at Legolas.

 “Hold my hand. He must do this, Legolas. The poison will still be in you, but at least you will not be infected by the metal as well.”

 Legolas grasped Eowyn’s hand tightly and squeezed his eyes shut as the ranger began his work. A few women hurried over with towels and fresh water to clean out the wound once the metal was removed. The process was VERY painful, and even as he squeezed Eowyn’s hand very tightly (She even grimaced in pain a bit), he still cried out.

 “There.” Said Aragorn, holding the triangular piece of metal in front of Legolas. “It is out. But you are now bleeding, unfortunately. Thank you.” He told the women as he accepted their towels.

 “You are most welcome, Lord.” They replied.

 “We must get the dear back to Rohan. He can not remain here at Helm’s Deep.” Eowyn told Aragorn. “He needs to be in a warm bed.”

 Aragorn glanced over his shoulder and smirked—the dwarf still stood facing the stone wall in the corner. “Gimli—it is over.” Aragorn insisted.

 “What?” The dwarf cried.

 “The arrow is out I mean. You may turn around.”

 Gimli nodded and did so, but saw the blood seeping through the towel and THUD. Eowyn laughed, as did Legolas a bit, but he gasped as a seering pain shot through his arm. “Let me retrieve Gandalf from above and see if we can not place Legolas on Shadowfax and have him brought to your Uncle’s house.” Aragorn told Eowyn. “You are right—it is not safe for him to be lying on a stone ground in this condtion.”

 Legolas started coughing again, and Eowyn eased him into a sitting position till the fit ended. “Would you care for some more water?” She asked gently.

 “Thank you.” Legolas told her. “Aragorn—I am suddenly so very cold. I n-need a blanket.”

 “You are boiling.” Aragorn told him. “Do you feel hot and cold at the same time?”

 Legolas nodded.

 “He is running chills then.” Eowyn clucked her tongue. “Go and get Gandalf—I will sit with him till you return.”

 “You are leaving me again?” Legolas asked in a whimper.

 “I will be back, Legolas. I promise. We’re going to try and bring you to Rohan.” Aragorn nearly stepped on the still form of Gimli before heading back up to the fortress. He caught sight of the white wizard, kneeling beside the fallen form of Haldir. Theoden was walking about the grounds, counting the number of dead men and aiding the wounded. The few boys who had not been injured in the large battle, were huddled together at one end of the fortress, trembling in fear. War, obviously, was not something they had hoped to see in their lifetime, no matter how glorified the stories of old were. War was all but glorious.

 “Tis a pity he had to fall in this way.” Gandalf said quietly, his eyes closed. Aragorn nodded sadly. Haldir had been a friend and he was starting to feel the pain of the loss at this moment as he watched the pale face.

 “And more ill news I bring to you, Gandalf.” Aragorn replied.

 “More ill news?” Gandalf looked up. “Neither Legolas or Gimli have fallen I do hope!”

 “No—they have not fallen.” Aragorn promised. “However, I bring ill news of Legolas. The Elf has fallen very sick and we must get him back to Rohan quickly.”

 “Rohan? Now Aragorn, that is a very trecherous road to take. Especially at this time. We do not know if this is the only arm of orcs Saruman has unleashed.”

 “But he cannot stay here!” Aragorn yelled. “He cannot or he will die, surely!”

 “How did he fall ill?”

 “He did not tell us about a wound he had received at least two weeks ago. We are assuming he received it before Boromir fell or after. The arrow was poisonous.”

 Gandalf stood quickly. “Lead me to him. Have you removed the arrow?”

 “Yes.”

 “What are his symtpoms at the moment?”

 “He is running a very high fever and chills. He also has a cough, but that does not seem to be all that apparent.”

 Gandalf nodded, and, after blessing Haldir, followed the ranger back down into the caverns. He approached Legolas and noticed that Gimli was sitting, holding his forehead, looking very annoyed about something. He also noted that Eowyn was beside the Elf, cradling his head in her lap. “Legolas.” Gandalf announced, kneeling down, setting his staff on the ground.

 “Gandalf.” The Elf gasped.

 “I am here, lad.”

 “Are we—are we going to Rohan?” Legolas asked weakly.

 “Yes, judging from the looks of things.”

 Aragorn smiled. “He may ride Shadowfax then.”

 “In deed.”

 “Am I going to die?” Legolas wanted to know, his eyes glazing over a bit with the pain. Gimli touched Legolas’s arm and smiled through his thick, auburn beard.

 “Nonsense. You won’t die if I have anything to do with it.”

 The Elf smiled weakly before allowing Aragorn to ease him to his feet. Gandalf let out a high-pitched whistle that sounded more like a voice singing, and an enormous white horse approached, rearing a little before coming to a complete stop. “Ah—thank you for coming quickly.” The white wizard smiled at the horse, patting its neck. “We have a very ill Elf that needs to get back to Theoden’s house in Rohan.”

 Aragorn aided Legolas onto the horse’s back and Gandalf hopped up behind him. “We will leave now. Tell the King and come after me as soon as you can. Away, Shadowfax!” The horse immediately started to gallop away, and, Gimli, out of pure fright, started to chase after it but was soon pulled back by the scruff of the neck by Aragorn.

 “No, Gimli. You will ride with me.”

 Eowyn touched Aragorn’s arm. “I am terribly sorry about your companion. I wish you all of the best.”

 Aragorn smiled. “Thank you, Lady Eowyn. Come, Gimli. Let us inform the King of our leaving and we will ride away.”

 Gimli sighed heavily. “All right. Good night, Lady.” He bowed respectfully to Eowyn before following the ranger.

 “What—is—happening?” Legolas gasped once he’d finished. “G-Gandalf—I must lay down.”

 Gandalf dismounted from Shadowfax and went over to his companion, rubbing the Elf’s back as he continued to vomit again. “It is all right, Legolas, son of Thranduil. I am sorry, but you  may not lay down as yet. We have a fortnight till we arrive in Rohan.”

 Legolas let out a groan of pain as the wizard aided him back onto the horse. “I am so cold.” The Elf whispered.

 Gandalf removed his white cloak and wrapped it about the shoulders of the Elven prince, hoping to comfort the Elf as much as he could before they reached the city.

 By nightfall they had to stop and camp in a grove of pine trees. Legolas lay on the ground, his eyes shut tightly and murmering inaudible words in his sleep. Gandalf conjured a small fire to keep the Elf warm. “Tell my father,” Legolas whispered, “That I am sorry.”

 “You are NOT going to leave us.” Gandalf snapped. “I will make sure you do not. We need you, Legolas Greenleaf. More than you will ever know.”

 Legolas tried to fight a small flood of tears that made their way down his pale cheeks. He missed Gimli and needed the dwarf’s dry sense of humor now more than ever.
 
 
 
 

Gimli ignored the tears that poured from his eyes as he rode behind Aragorn on the way to Rohan a few hours later. Theoden and Eowyn were with them as well, along with the band they had originally started off with. No one spoke, for grief had taken over. Legolas was slowly dying from a poisonous wound, and all of them prayed to the Valar that he would be well.

 “We were not fond of each other at first you know,” Gimli said through his tears to Eowyn, who was crying as well. “I will miss him terribly if he leaves us.”

 “He will not leave us, Gimli.” Aragorn promised. “When we get to Rohan, we will get him into a bed and I will look into my pack and see what I can come up with to slow the poison. Athelas may work.”

 Eowyn wiped her tears away with the back of her hand. So much had happened in such a small amount of time. So much was still to come, she could sense it in the back of her mind. They prepared to camp once darkness fell, and prepared a meager meal of bread and cold soup. Eowyn chewed on her bread and cried as she listened to Gimli talk about the good times he and Legolas had together on the Quest, despite the peril that did occur as well.

 “And so he said,” Gimli chortled as he drank from his canteen, “Why does that not surprise me? The nerve of him!”

 Eowyn laughed in the midst of her tears. “But then,” Gimli added, slapping his knee, “He rescued me before I nearly fell off of one of the cliffs in Moria. It is unheard of, usually, for a dwarf to befriend an Elf, but there is a first time for everything I say.”

 Eowyn looked at Aragorn, who had lit his pipe and was smoking it, gazing up at the stary sky. He murmered “A Elbereth Gilthoniel, o menel palan-diriel, le nallon si di’nguruthos! A tiro Legolas, Fanuilos!”

 “What does that mean?” Eowyn asked softly as she scooted over to sit closer to him. Aragorn looked at her as he blew a smoke ring into the air before speaking.

 “It means: O Star-Queen Star-Kindler, from firmament afar-gazing, to thee I cry here bneath death-horror! O watch over Legolas, Fanuilos.” He smiled. “We need every prayer we can muster.”

 “Then allow us all to pray together,” said Gimli, standing up. Eowyn joined him, and the three wound up holding hands tightly and closing their eyes as they chanted the same phrase in Elvish:

 “A Elbereth Gilthoniel, o menel palan-diriel, le nallon si di’nguruthos! A tiro Legolas, Fanuilos!”

 Theoden was watching the process from his position a few feet away and looked down at the ground. He had lost his own son, Theodred, to orcs not long before. He hoped that Aragorn and Gimli would not suffer such a loss also.

 Within a few hours, the company went to sleep.
 
 
 

Close to evening the following day, Gandalf and Legolas arrived in Rohan. The Elf was half-spent by the time the wizard carried him up the steps and into the main hallway. Rohan was now deserted following the attack of the orcs, and the house of Theoden was empty as well. He carried Legolas to the closest bed chamber, and lay the Elf down atop of the quilts.

 “Are they here?” Legolas asked weakly after the wizard put him under the blankets and prepared a bowl of luke-warm water to bathe the wound.

 “Not as yet, Legolas.” Gandalf replied.

 “Will they be here soon, then?”

 “As soon as they are able. Rest now, Legolas. I must tend to your wound.”

 “Ah.” Legolas gasped as the water touched the indent the arrow tip had made, which had now swollen and had turned a gruesome greenish black. The Elf’s uneven breathing was the only sound in the house. “Might I have a drink of water?” Legolas asked in a hoarse voice. Gandalf nodded and retrieved the half-empty canteen.

 “Slow sips now, lad. That is it.”

 Soon the two heard the doors to the house fly open and the sound of footsteps pounding down the corridors. “GANDALF!” Aragorn called.

 “Where are they?” asked Eowyn in a worried tone.

 “Legolas, laddie! Where ARE you?” Gimli called, trying to lighten the mood.

 “Here!” Gandalf hollored, and all stopped dead in their tracks.

 “It sounds as though his voice came from that corridor there,” Eowyn suggested, pointing ahead. “Come—follow me.” She hitched her skirts and led the way. They entered a dim corridor, its floor covered by blood red carpet. “Gandalf? Are you in one of these rooms?” Eowyn called.

 “The second one on the right.”

 They found it and entered.

 “Ah ha.” Said Gimli, pointing at the Elf in bed. “Found you.”

 “Yes,” Legolas said weakly. “In deed you did.”

 Eowyn hurried over to the wizard. “How is he?” She asked hopefully.

 “The same.” Gandalf replied solumnly.

 “Oh Gandalf—look at the wound. It is so swollen and discoloured!” Eowyn covered her hands with her mouth and for a moment, Aragorn was afraid she was going to be sick herself.

 “Green?”

 All heads turned to see Elorian standing in the doorway. “Wait till I tell Anian!”

 “Elorian! How did you find us in here, you rascal?” asked Eowyn with a chuckle as she went to scoop the child into her arms. “Where is your mother?”

 “In the villiage. She said I could come and look for you.”

 “It is not safe for you here. Not now, Elorian.” Eowyn insisted.

 “Let me see her,” Legolas insisted.

 “I’ve never met an Elf before, though I have heard stories all about them!” Elorian gasped.

 “Then you shall.” Said Legolas in the midst of a cough.

 “Are you certain you are strong enough?” asked Gandalf with uncertainty as Elorian hurried over to the sickbed and peered at the creature with her blue eyes wide as saucers. “Your eyes are the same color as mine! My Mama tells me mine are the color of the sea in the summer.”

 Legolas smiled weakly. “They are.”

 “Can I touch you? To make sure you’re real and that I am not asleep?” Elorian asked hopefully.

 Legolas nodded, holding out his hand, and the little girl  gently touched the very warm skin. “You are burning. He is very ill, isn’t he?” Elorian turned to Eowyn who nodded.

 “Which is why,” She said, lifting the girl again, “You should not be here. Come now—let me take you back where you belong.”

 “Okay. It was a pleasure to meet you, Master Legolas. I do hope you are well soon.”

 Legolas smiled again, before turning his head again and closing his eyes. Gimli bowed his head, a slight smirk on his face, as Eowyn left the room with the little girl. Aragorn was grinning as well as he watched Eowyn disappear through the doorway and then he turned to Gimli. “Let Legolas rest. You and I shall have a chat over some fresh meat and a good glass of wine.”

 “If there is any left in the house,” said Gandalf with a smile.

 “We will find some.” Aragorn promised, before touching Legolas once more on the arm and leading Gimli away.

 “I will take over the watch, Gandalf. You ought to go and rest a bit.”

 Legolas moaned softly at that point and broke into a fit of coughing. The wizard frowned. “I do not need a rest.” He argued. “But if you insist on taking over the watch, I will let you do so.”

 Aragorn headed over towards the sickbed and placed a hand against Legolas’s brow. The Elf was still burning up, much to his disappointment. “Has he taken any liquids down?”

 Gandalf nodded. “A bit of tea an hour ago, but nothing since then. Well, good night, Aragorn. I will see you in the morning.”

 “Or when the sun rises.” Aragorn chortled, glancing up at the clock. Gandalf shook his head before leaving the room, and Aragorn sat down in the empty chair. He peered into Legolas’s pale face and found that it was covered in sweat. He had never seen the Elf sick before and it worried him great deal. He reached into his pack that contained several different herbs and pulled out a string of Athelas plants. He folded down the comforter, revealing Legolas’s bare chest. The wound looked worse than it had the last time Aragorn had seen it, and he felt slightly nauseous. ‘Don’t be rediculous. You’re a ranger—you’ve seen worse than this in your lifetime.’ He scolded himself as he gently wetted the Athelas with his tongue. He ever so lightly placed the plant against the wound, and Legolas suddenly let out a horrible yell and attempted to move away from him.

 “Legolas! Calm down!” Aragorn ordered when the Elf, who was now sitting up and leaning far back against the headboard, his eyes wide in terror. “I am only trying to help!”

 “A-Aragorn?” Legolas asked.

 “Yes. Lay back down now, Legolas. I am trying to slow the poison. It will sting, but not too badly.”

 Legolas whimpered a little as the ranger placed the plant against the broken skin again. “I am terribly sorry,” Legolas apologized.

 Aragorn glanced up at him in surprise. “Sorry? For what, Legolas? You did nothing wrong.”

 “For not having told you about this wound sooner. We were so worried about finding Merry and Pippin that I forgot all about it. I never told you, Aragorn, but the nights we camped following the battle when Boromir fell, I felt so sick that I would go a few feet away to throw up.”

 Aragorn frowned. “You must have gone more than a few feet away, or I would have most certainly heard you.” He replied. “But it can not be helped now. You must rest as much as you can, but before you do, I must give you another sip of tea. Would you like that?”

 Legolas smiled weakly. “I am too tired.”

 “Then I will feed it to you. You must keep fluids in your system or you will become dehydrated, which will cause you to become even more ill than you already are.”

 Legolas nodded in agreement finally, and Aragorn lifted the saucer from the nightstand and slowly tipped the edge of the teacup against Legolas’s cracked lips. The Elf looked like a child at this point—so weak and helpless. Aragorn almost wished Eowyn was here with him—Legolas could use a woman’s presence, and Theoden’s niece had helped him quite a bit down in the caverns of Helm’s Deep. Helm’s Deep. Thinking of the battle brought Aragorn sharply to reality. He immediately withdrew the cup and set it on the nightstand, covering his face with one hand. Legolas watched this with amazement.

 “Aragorn. Do not grieve so.” He said.

 “I did not find it in my heart to tell you when we brought you down below,” Aragorn whispered through tears. “But Haldir—Haldir fell only minutes after you took sick.”

 Legolas’s mouth opened and closed and for a moment he could not find the courage to speak. Haldir was dead? “He is dead?” Legolas asked, fighting back his own tears. Aragorn nodded. “I am so sorry.” Legolas whispered.

 “Do not be. I should not have told you this now—you are very ill. Lay back and rest, son of Thranduil. I will remain with you throughout the night if you need anything.”

 Legolas nodded, and settled back against his pillows, closing his eyes. It was then that Aragorn noticed the tears slowly falling down the Elf’s cheeks, and he immediately grasped Legolas’s hand, squeezing it tightly. ‘We can not loose you also.’ He thought, closing his eyes. ‘Please get well, for the love of the Valar.’ He lay Legolas’s hand back down upon his blankets and leaned back against his chair.

 Aragorn was an amazing man, and Eowyn admired everything about him. She slid off of her four-poster, snatched her robe of fine silk, and decided to check on the ill elf. As she entered the corridor, she stopped short. ‘Are you truly going to check on Legolas?’ A voice in her head asked with uncertainty. She glanced over her shoulder as though expecting to see someone behind her, but the hallway was empty. Eowyn chewed on her bottom lip in concentration. ‘I do not LOVE him. He already gave his heart to another.’ She thought bitterly as she remembered the jewl around the ranger’s neck. Arwen. That, Aragorn told her, was his true love’s name—the daughter of the Lord Elrond of Rivendell.

 A bought of very harsh coughing suddenly broke Eowyn’s trail of thought, and she quickly dashed towards the direction of the sick room. When she arrived, it was not Aragorn who was there, but Gimli the dwarf. She had to smile—what a pair Legolas and Gimli made. She cleared her throat to make her presence known. The Dwarf looked up and a small smile appeared beneath his thick, auburn beard. He nodded respectuflly to her and she nodded back.

 “How does he fare?” Eowyn asked, walking over to Legolas’s side. She took hold of the Elf’s hand, finding that his skin was still burning.

 “The fever still rages, Lady.” Gimli replied, tears filling his dark eyes. Eowyn sat on the bed and caressed Legolas’s burning cheek as a mother would do to a sick child.

 “I have not yet seen an Elf asleep with his eyes closed. He must be in terrible pain.” She whispered.

 At that moment, Legolas let out a moan and stretched out a bit. Gimli touched the Elf’s other hand and peered down at his sleeping face. “Aragorn was considering calling for your aid, Eowyn, but he had not the hear to awaken you.”

 Eowyn quickly looked up and felt her cheeks grow warm. “He—he did? He should have sent for me if he wished. I was not sleeping peacefully either and would not have minded.”

 Gimli noticed her pink cheeks and smirked. “You are not in love with him, are you?” He asked.

 Eowyn gasped. “Gimli son of Gloin! How DARE you say such a thing? I know of Arwen of course!” She pursed her lips.

 Gimli sniggered. “I can sense your jealousy.”

 Eowyn was now fuming as she snapped, “I will not continue this conversation with someone who can not even tell apart a woman from a man in his own kin!” She folded her arms and turned away, staring at the wall. Gimli looked down at his feet, still smiling a little.

 “I did not mean to hurt your feelings. I just thought you ought to realize that he is not availible.”

 Legolas’s eyes suddenly fluttered open. “Need—water.” He gasped. Eowyn turned around again and watched as Gimli retrieved a glass of clear liquid from the nightstand. The Elf was too weak to even lift his head from the pillow, so Eowyn took the cup and gently allowed him to sip from it.

 “Everything about me is turning hazy.” Legolas told them. “I have not even the strength to move my fingers.”

 Eowyn touched his arm. “Please hold on for us. You WILL make it.” She closed her eyes as tears fought to seep down her cheeks. “You have a good fight still left in you, love.”

 Gimli wiped away his own tears and gave a small cough. “You will NOT leave me, Legolas. You are my……….”

 Legolas watched as Gimli broke down and immediately hurried out of the room, unable to take the sadness any longer. Eowyn was now crying too as she held Legolas’s hand to her cheek, kissing it softly. “I have not known you for long, Legolas, but I will miss you terribly if you go. Please.” She begged. Legolas took a deep breath before turning his head in the opposite direction. Eowyn bowed her head, touching her lips to the Elf’s hand. “We will do everything we can to help you feel better—I promise.” She whispered.

 In the corridor, Gimli slid down the wall, burrying his head in his arms as he sobbed quietly. He missed Legolas more than anything in the world. He even missed the Elf’s cracks about the Dwarf folk, which originally bothered him quite a bit. He didn’t notice Theoden approaching until a gentle hand was laid upon his shoulder.

 “Do not grieve, Gimli. Your friend will recover.”

 Gimli looked up, not bothering to wipe his tears away. “Your highness. I did not hear you come.” He quickly stood. “Should you not be asleep?”

 Theoden smiled softly. “I should, yes, and Eowyn will have my head if she finds me out of my chamber. But, I wished to check on the Elf’s progress.”

 Gimli shook his head. “He is not doing any better, King Theoden. I am sorry.”

 “The Valar is with him.” Theoden promised. “They will protect him. They know how much you and Aragorn care for him and that he has still so much left to accomplish that they will not take him from this world as yet.”

 “The good and dear always DO die,” Gimli sobbed. “How could I possibly hold onto that hope?”

 “You must hold onto that hope, Gimli. I have sent………” Theoden cleared his throat. “I have sent for one of Rohan’s local healers. He will be here in an hour or so to see if he can not ease your friend’s pain.”

 Gimli gasped. “You did?” He fell to his knees. “Thank you. I am most gracious. We will all be.”

 Theoden nodded. “You are most welcome.”

 Gimli smiled. “Would you like to see Legolas? He is in a dreadful state but I am sure a third visitor would not be much of a problem, as he is barely coherent.”

 The King laughed softly. “I would like to see him, but I fear I will get the whip from my niece.” He winked and this caused Gimli to chuckle as he lead the King now int the sick-room. Eowyn had stopped crying and looked up to see the King come in.

 “Uncle! What are you doing out of bed at this unearthly hour?” She cried in shock. “You have been through eons of hardship and you need your rest!”

 Gimli snorted as Theoden held up his hand. “Who is the King of Rohan, sister-daughter? Surely not yourself!”

 Eowyn’s lips tightened in a thin line as Theoden came over to her. “If you do not mind my saying so, what are YOU doing out of bed at this unearthly hour? You are eons younger than I.”

 Eowyn blushed. “Well I—I could not sleep.”

 “Neither could I. So we are even then.” He was glad to see her smile at last as she stood and went to give her Uncle a hug.

 “He has sent for a healer,” Gimli told Eowyn.

 Eowyn looked up. “Oh Uncle.” She sobbed.

 Theoden touched her cheek with the palm of his hand. “Go and get some rest.”

 “All right. Good night, Uncle.” She nodded to Gimli before turning and heading back for her bedroom.

 As Theoden had promised, his healer arrived about an hour after being sent for, and set right to work on the Elf. He checked Legolas’s heartbeat, his breathing and his temperature, and then barked orders to retrieve a bowl of luke-warm water, a fresh mug of chamomile tea, clean towels, etc. Gimli blinked once the lamps were lit and the sickroom became very bright. Alarmed by the very high temperature, the healer told Eowyn to create a luke-warm bath. “We must sponge him down. The fever must be drawn from his head.”

 Legolas was taken from his bed and soon placed into the large tub. Eowyn knelt down beside the tub and aided the healer in sponging him down. “Let me go!” Legolas yelled after the first bucket of water was poured over him. “Unhand me!”

 Eowyn held the Elf down firmly by the arms until the process was considered complete. He was immediately wrapped in a fluffy robe borrowed by Theoden and placed back into bed. By dawn, the tea was administered, but the Elf was not recovering as quickly as the healer had hoped.

 “His fever is still the same.” Said Aragorn, after taking Legolas’s temperature around breakfast.

 “It is the poison.” Eowyn sobbed. “The poision is slowly devouring him.”

 “What will we do?” asked Gimli, grasping Legolas’s clammy hand. “You stupid Elf—come back to us this instant. You certainly know how to worry a fellow, don’t you?”

 Aragorn turned to Theoden. “Your Highness—would you be so kind as to write a letter to King Thranduil of Mirkwood? He must know of his son.”

 “I will straight away, Aragorn.” Theoden hurried to his study.

 “Is there not an antedote that could fight the poison?” asked Eowyn hopefully. “You are a ranger—you MUST know of this type of thing!”

 “We must find the hobbits,” Legolas suddenly choked.

 Aragorn, Eowyn and Gimli turned to him. “He is having another nightmare,” Gimli said. “Do something, Aragorn, before he hurts himself!”

 “Half a moment.” Aragorn glanced at the Elf. “Legolas—where are the hobbits?”

 “They are—they are moving towards Isengard with the Ent folk. Saruman.”

 “How does he know this?” Eowyn asked quietly, “If he is not present with them?”

 Aragorn frowned. “I am not sure, but I am sure the poison has something to do with this. Saruman created the orcs that used the arrow that struck Legolas, and I am very positive that the poison was very magical.”

 “And of course deadly,” sighed Eowyn.

 “As for an antedote, I am not exactly sure. I could make a brew with Athelas that he could take down and we will see if that helps.”

 Eowyn nodded. The healer frowned as well. “Yes—that could be useful. The poison is slowly attacking his immune system, and even if the Elf does recover, he will still be prone to falling ill. With this cough, it could slowly turn into pneumonia. That is not a treatable illness and he most likely will die.”

 Eowyn turned to Aragorn. “Create your brew, quickly.”

 Aragorn bolted off towards the Great Hall so he could have enough space for the cooking of the liquid and so that it would not bother Legolas. He had no time to waste.

 Legolas was grateful when Eowyn allowed him to take a sip of the chamomile tea to rinse out he foul taste leftover in his mouth, and the healer went to empty the basin out the window onto the cobblestone below. Once the Elf was lying still again, Aragorn went over to Eowyn, who was tucking the covers around Legolas’s neck.

 “It is finished,” The ranger told the woman, showing her the mug. “We must administer it as soon as possible.”

 Legolas, who was too exhausted to protest, watched as Aragorn walked over and sat down where the healer had last been, and accepted a spoon.  “This is going to help you,” Aragorn promised. “I am going to warn you ahead of time—it does not have a good taste to it, which is why I am giving it to you by the spoonful.”

 Legolas nodded in the midst of a cough and opened his mouth to receive the first dose. Eowyn watched with hopeful eyes as the Elf grimaced after swallowing. Aragorn nodded with a smile. “Very good.” He complimented, and continued spooning the medicine. Gimli watched the process, wrinkling his nose at the foul smell of the liquid. Suddenly, his stomach gave a loud growl, making Eowyn laugh.

 “Hungry, are you?” She asked him with a smile.

 “A bit. Haven’t eaten since breakfast yesterday. Should get a little something.”

 Eowyn looked at Aragorn who was still spoon-feeding the Elf, and stood. “You do not mind if we go to the kitchens, do you? I am rather hungry myself. Would you care for anything?”

 Aragorn shook his head. “I am all right. Thank you for offering, though. I may pick up something later.”

 Eowyn nodded before leading Gimli away. Legolas suddenly closed his mouth after the fifth spoonful. “I feel I am going to be sick again, Aragorn.” He whispered. “I can not take down anymore.”

 Aragorn sighed. “You need to, Legolas. I know it smells awful and tastes worse, but it is all we have to give you medicine-wise at the moment. You are not responding to any of the fever treatements we have performed.”

 Legolas sighed. “I am dying, aren’t I?” He asked.

 Aragorn cleared his throat as he ceased administiring the brew, and set the mug onto his lap. He hated to say “Yes” but what else could he say? He was not very good at lying-- Arwen had told him this many times.

 “The truth is always better,” She had told him. “Even if it hurts.”

 “Aragorn rubbed his hand over his face and sighed heavily. “Yes, Legolas. You are dying, but you still have hope to recover.”

 Legolas nodded. “I have failed you, Aragorn.”

 “You have not failed us.” Aragorn snapped. “I understand you have your pride an that normally Elves choose how they die and when they die, but accidents happen. We all make mistakes as well.”

 Legolas still did not look very convinced but he did not argue further. “I—I must tell my father---about this.”

 Aragorn smiled. “Theoden has already sent a message to him.”

 Legolas grimaced as another sharp spasm of pain burst through his injuried arm, and he let out a hiss of agony. He grasped the sheets as his cheeks turned three shades paler than it was originally. “I can not take this terrible pain anymore, Aragorn. Please---kill me now.” He begged once he had fallen back against the bed again. Aragorn touched the Elf’s forehead, feeling so sorry for him that it made his heart ache.

 “I most certainly will not do such a thing to you.” Aragorn told him.

 “It is all I ask of you.” Legolas growled. “It is all I have ever asked of you.”

 Aragorn glanced down at his belt, his dagger gleaming against the sunlight that streamed through the curtains. He quickly shook his head. ‘What am I thinking? I could never kill one of my own companions.’ Still, it was a request. He slowly pulled the dagger from his belt and held it in front of him. He could hear Legolas’s breathing quicken and saw that the Elf was staring at the knife as well.

 “Make it quick, Aragorn.” Legolas begged.

 Aragorn realized his hand was trembling as he slowly pulled down the comforter, revealing Legolas’s bare chest once again. “I can not.” He finally dropped the knife and grimaced as it made a CLANG as it hit the stone. “I can not kill you. I would much rather have you die peacefully in sleep.” He covered his face with his hand. Legolas let out quiet sigh, and Aragorn was not sure if it was a sigh of releif or exhaustion.

 “Would you have killed me in a different circumstance, Aragorn?” Legolas asked. “If we were out in the wilderness I mean?”

 The ranger uncovered his face and looked at his companion. “I do not know what I would have done, Legolas.” He took hold of the Elf’s hand and squeezed it. “You MUST get well. Please fight this.”

 Legolas smiled weakly. “I am trying, but I am so very tired.”

 Theoden suddenly hurried into the sickroom, his eyes wide. “King Thranduil and his kin have arrived.”

 Legolas jolted. “Father? He has gotten your message?”

 “Quite quickly. He has just been spotted by one of my men a few miles away.”

 Aragorn blinked. The King of Mirkwood was coming. “I shall inform the others, shall I?” He asked.

 “Yes. Eowyn and Gimli are in the dining hall.”

 The healer, who had taken care of Legolas the night before, appeared from behind the King. “I will watch over him while you warn the others.”

 Aragorn nodded. “Very well. I will return shortly.” He hurried to the Great Hall, where sure enough, Eowyn and Gimli sat deep in conversation while they nibbled on bread, cheese and fruit. “The King of Mirkwood is coming.” He told them, and they gasped.

 “Thranduil?” asked Eowyn in amazement. “He rides swiftly. Father only sent the message yesterday.”

 Aragorn nodded. “So I would be in position when he arrives. He is only but three miles away.”

 Gimli stood. “Aie, let us go and wait in the entrance hall.”

 Eowyn nodded. “Yes, we shall go. Thank you for letting us know, Aragorn.” She smiled softly before following Gimli out of the dining hall. Aragorn watched them disappear and then gazed up at the ceiling.

 “Diola lle.” He whispered to the havens as he hurried back to the sickroom.

It was nearly an hour before Thranduil arrived with a small band of his Elven kin. Thranduil was very tall and slender, with a light complexion and the same, silkly blonde hair as Legolas. His eyes were also the same color, and he wore pine green tunic and a pair of gray breeches. “Where is my son?” He asked in a firm tone when he met up with Eowyn and Gimli, who were waiting for him.

“Follow me.” Said Eowyn.

Thranduil ordered his kin to continue and they followed Eowyn and Gimli down the corridor and towards the sickroom. They entered, and Theoden, Aragorn and the healer immediately stood, kneeling before him. Thanduil walked over to Legolas’s bedside and whispered something gently into his ear in Elvish, touching his son’s face.

 “What did he say?” whispered Eowyn to Aragorn.

 “I am here, my dear son.” Aragorn replied. She nodded softly.

 Thranduil stood and faced Aragorn, his face very cold. “You should have sent for me sooner, Aragorn, son of Arathorn.”

 Aragorn cleared his throat nervously. “We did not know until two days ago, and we were so caught up in trying to comfort Legolas that we did not even think to send a message to you.”

 Thranduil nodded. “Ferathin,” he began, pointing to the brown-haired Elf beside him. “Has an antedote for the poison the Elves in my Kindgom have recently created. As the poison has lingered in my son for quite a bit, I am not sure how quickly the medicine will perform its duty.”

 Aragorn nodded. “Would you like us to leave while you administer it to him?”

 Thranduil looked the ranger up and down. “I would. You would be a distraction.”

 “Come.” said Eowyn. “Let us leave King Thranduil to work.”

 Aragorn quickly touched Legolas’s forehead before leaving with the rest of his companions. They left the sickroom, and headed towards the dining hall. Gimli hadn’t spoken a word since he had been with Eowyn, and Aragorn did not blame him.

 “We should find a way to properly bury Legolas.” Gimli said quietly.

 Eowyn glanced at Aragorn who looked down at the Dwarf. “He is not going to die.”

 “I know I will not sleep well tonight,” Eowyn said.

 “Neither will I.” Aragorn agreed.

 “He has been suffering so for five days now,” Gimli added. “Can the Valar not provide him with SOME comfort?”

 Aragorn and Eowyn were silent as they sat down at the table. “Perhaps we should spend the night together,” She suggested to the ranger and the dwarf. “We could comfort each other when grief is too much to bare alone.”

 Gimli smiled. “She has a good idea, Aragorn.”

 Aragorn looked at Eowyn. “I suppose that would be all right, but which room would we share?”

 Eowyn smiled. “Not a room, but we may sleep in here. Spread blankets along the floor as though we are camping outdoors.”

 Gimli laughed. “In deed that sounds like the perfect idea of a camping trip to me.”

 So it was agreed that the three companions would spend the night in each other’s company, and it was spent telling stories, singing songs and laughing over dry jokes. They did not fall asleep till the early hours of morning.

 Sure enough, Aragorn and Gimli were there, each standing with their heads bowed. Theoden stood on one side of the bed and Thranduil stood on the other. Eowyn hated to break this moment of silence, so she tiptoed over to her Uncle and tenderly touched his shoulder. Theoden jumped a little before turning to face his niece.

 “How is he?” Eowyn whispered, unable to contain herself any longer. She looked at the sleeping form of Legolas. The color seemed to have returned to the Elf’s cheeks, and she noticed that an empty glass vial sat on the nightstand.

 “The fever broke only an hour ago,” Theoden replied. “We are waiting for him to awaken.”

 Eowyn covered her mouth with her hands and the tears immediately began flowing down her cheeks. “When I did not see you,” She told Aragorn, “I was terrified that Legolas had died and that you were afraid to tell me.”

 Aragorn smiled softly. “No, he is not dead. We could not wake you—you looked much too comfortable.”

 Eowyn gave the ranger a threatening glare, which caused Theoden to chuckle. Thranduil lifted his head, his blue eyes watching them. He knelt down beside his son and whispered, “Tolo dan na ngalad.”and tenderly touched his sleeping son’s forehead. Eowyn felt her Uncle pull her to him in a gentle hug, and she folded her arms, watching hopefully as she noticed Legolas’s eyes move underneath their lids.

 “I suppose he took the medicine then?” Eowyn asked with curiosity.

 Thranduil nodded. “It took a bit of a struggle, but he did.”

 Eowyn stepped forward. “I know I do not often do such a thing, but……..” She walked over to the bed ridden Elf and placed a gentle kiss upon his brow. Then she quickly stepped back. “If that does not bring him back nothing will.” She turned to Aragorn who was trying very hard not to laugh, and snapped, “What?”

 As though to answer her question, Legolas let out a weak moan and moved a bit. Gimli held his breath and watched hopefully as the Elf’s eyes slowly opened halfway. He gazed ahead, and looked a bit confused by his surroundings. Thranduil gently kissed his son’s forehead and watched as Legolas tried to move his lips. “Legolas!” Gimli cried, rushing over to the bed and placing both of his hands onto the mattress. “Speak to me, friend.”

 Legolas turned to him and it seemed as though a sudden but very weak smile appeared. “Hullo.” He whispered. Aragorn hurried over now and inspected the would on Legolas’s arm. It was now only a small slit and the greenish black tint that had been there a few days before had disappeared.

 “Oh Great Havens.” Breathed Gimli. “You stupid Elf—do you realize how worried we were about you?”

 Legolas watched as Aragorn wetted a fresh rag and gently blotted the wound, making sure it was clean before wrapping it in a soft bandage. Thranduil smiled when Legolas turned to him. “Ada?” He whispered. Thranduil nodded.

 “Lle tyava quel?” (Do you feel well?)  he asked hopefully, once again placing a hand against his son’s forehead.

Legolas smiled weakly. “Lorda.” (Drowsy) He yawned but that sent him into another fit of coughing.

 Aragorn stepped forward. “He ought to remain in bed for the next couple of days, as he is still very weak.”

 Thranduil nodded. “Amin weera yassen lle.” (I agree with you.) He turned to Legolas. “I am very glad to see your eyes open again, my son.” He smiled softly. “As soon as I received word of your illness, I left immediately.”

 Gimli leaned towards Eowyn and whispered “He got here rather quickly, didn’t he?”

 She tried hard not to laugh.

 Legolas smiled back. “I feared I would never see you again.”

 Thranduil looked at Aragorn. “I would like to speak with you in private please.”

 The ranger nodded. “All right. We will return.” He told the others, and the two of them left the room. When they were gone, Gimli grasped Legolas’s hand.

 “We thought you were going to leave us. Don’t you EVER do something like that to me again.”

 Legolas chuckled. “You worried so about me, did you?” He asked.

 Eowyn smiled. “We all did. You were very sick, Legolas. Thank goodness your father arrived or we would surely have lost you.”

 Legolas looked at her fondly, before asking if he could have a sip of water. He was still too exhausted to take it down himself, so Eowyn aided him in the process. “Thank you for taking care of me.” He told them. “Though I feel I will be able to sleep for an eternity.”

 Eowyn giggled. “Aragorn is right, Legolas. You will need to remain in bed for the next couple of days so you can regain your strength. Then we will probably start you on a very bland diet and take you for short walks around here before you can continue your journey.”

 Legolas nodded. “I would like to go back to sleep now, if you do not mind.” He whispered.

“Of course we do not mind.” Eowyn replied.

“Tenna' telwan san'” (Until later, then.) Legolas replied, before burrying himself under the thick blankets again.

Eowyn stood with a puzzled expression on her face. “What did he say to us?” HE asked Gimli. The dwarf smirked.

“Once an Elf always an Elf.” He teased. “We ought to leave and give him peace and quiet for now.”

Eowyn shook her head. “I do not think it is a good time to leave him alone just yet. I will stay with him until the Lord Aragorn returns. If you wish to leave, you may.”

“Very well.” Gimli nodded respectfully before heading out of the room. He stopped when he saw Thranduil and Aragorn standing at the end of the corridor closest to one of the glass windows. They were both speaking to each other in Elvish, and he could tell it was about Legolas, for the Elvan King was becoming very emotional with each word. The Dwarf did not understand a word they were saying and he had no idea what made him want to stay where he was.

“He will be all right, won’t he?” Gimli walked over to them, and the Elf and the Man turned to him.

“En rant.” (of course) Thranduil promised with a smile.

“He does not understand Elvish,” Aragorn explained.

“Ah.” Thranduil nodded and turned back to Gimli. “Yes, Legolas will be all right, but the poison weakened him greately. He will never return to the strong form he once was, and when you begin your journey again, keep a very close eye on him.”

“His heart is weak,” Aragorn added. “We will not be able to run as often. Anywhere we go, it will be crucial to ride a horse for sake of his health.”

The dwarf nodded in understanding. “How long will he have to stay in bed,
Aragorn? We are still planning to continue the search for the hobbits, aren’t we?”

 The rangers nodded. “Yes. But I would allow Legolas at least three more days of rest before we start slow.”

 Three days was not much, but they were in haste to continue looking for the two halflings. “Does he sleep?” Thranduil asked after the silence became very thick and rather uncomfortable.

 Gimli nodded. “Aie, he sleeps.”

 “Good.”

 “Would you care for a spot of wine, Lord Thranduil?” Aragorn asked, turning to the King of Mirkwood. “I believe there is a good stash in the dining hall.”

 The Elf nodded. “I most certainly would. Diolla lle.” (Thank you)

 “Lle creso.” (You’re welcome). Aragorn turned to Gimli. “Would you care to join us?”

 The dwarf grinned. “When do I ever miss a chance for a good glass of wine?” He asked and followed them away.

 “You are doing wonderfully,” She promised, once she brought him back to his bed. Thranduil, who had spent the past couple of nights there, came to see his son and noticed the woman with him. She stood and faced the Elven King, her eyes wide with slight embarassment. The human and the Elf continued to stare at each other until Eowyn cocked her head. “Would you like me to leave?” She asked quietly.

 “Yes.”

 She looked at Legolas before turning and leaving the room. When she was gone, Thranduil took a seat beside his son’s bed and held his hand. “I am very grateful to have you still with me.” He began. “I wish I could take you back to Mirkwood, but I know you still have so much to conquer with your companions.”

 Legolas turned away, feeling a lump forming in his throat.

 “Aragorn informs me that you feel you have failed us.” Thranduil continued. “You know that is not true, Legolas. Lle naa belegohtar.” He added in Elvish, and watched as his son slowly turned to face him again, looking a bit surprised by the comment. “Amin mela lle.” Thranduil added, kissing the frail hand tenderly.

 With all of the strength he could muster, Legolas threw his arms around his father, breaking down in tears. This was not something the Prince normally did, but he was so weak that emotions came over him very easily. “Diola lle, Ada.” He whispered. “Amin mela lle.”

 When the embrace broke, Thranduil placed both hands upon his son’s shoulders, and stroked the fair skin. “Cormamin niuve tenna' ta elea lle au.” He wiped the tears from Legolas’s cheeks and kissed him gently on the forehead. “I must leave tonight, my son. Quel kaima.” He allowed Legolas to lay back against the pillows and pulled the comforter closer to his neck. As he stood, he said, “Ama poldora.”

 Legolas nodded as Thranduil left the room with one final smile. When his father was gone, Legolas turned over on his good side and gazed out of the large glass window in the bedroom. He still felt so tired and wondered how in the name of Quenya he was going to be able to last throughout the rest of the journey and not collapse.

 It was not until supper time that Aragorn, Gimli, Eowyn and Theoden returned to the room. Legolas was fast asleep when they entered, and Aragorn turned to the others. “We shall leave the day after next,” He began. Theoden nodded.

 “Aie, Aragorn, that sounds like a good plan. I am so very glad that your friend is getting well.”

 The ranger nodded. “So am I. The fever was what I was most worried about and still am worried about. Though it is gone, I know the effects will be visible.” He glanced down at Gimli who was watching his bedridden friend.

 “Where is Gandalf?” The dwarf wanted to know.

 “He has gone to check on Shadowfax.” Aragorn replied.

 Gimli looked relieved. “Oh good. I thought he had left us for the moment.”

 Legolas suddenly shifted and opened his eyes again, noticing his friends gathered about him. “How are you feeling?” Aragorn asked, walking over to check the Elf’s forehead.

 “I do not know, Aragorn, how I will last throughout the remainder of the journey. Even walking a few feet exhausts me.”

 The ranger nodded. “I know, Legolas. We will aid you as much as we can.”

 At that moment, Gandalf arrived, holding his staff and looking rather satisfied with himself. “Shadowfax is perfectly willing to carry the Elf for the rest of the way if it is needed to be that way.” He turned to Legolas, who was lying down. “It is good to see you well, my friend.”

 Legolas smiled weakly. “Thank you, Gandalf.”

 “Now.” The wizard turned to Aragorn and Gimli. “I am afraid,” He began in a quiet voice, “That though the Battle of Helm’s Deep has ended, the Battle of Middle-Earth has just begun.”

 “Our hope now rests in the hands of two little hobbits,” said Aragorn with a sigh. “Frodo and Sam—I do hope they are all right.”

 Eowyn smiled. “What dark days these are. It will be wonderous when light returns again.”

 “Aie, Eowyn.” Theoden agreed. “But we must place all of our focus on the great tasks ahead. Our duties are not over yet.”

 How correct he was.

(The End)

Elvish Phrase translations:

1. Lle naa belegohtar: You are a mighty warrior
2. Amin mela lle: I love you
3. Diola lle: Thank you
4. Ada: father
5. Cormamin niuve tenna ta elea lle au: My Heart shall weep until it sees thee again
6. Quel Kaima: Sleep well
7. Ama poldora: The spell that gives strength.