Elladan and Elrohir tried calling out to their friends and father, but received no replies. They were unsure if their voices simply weren't penetrating the rubble…or if they were all dead.

Mirkwood's warriors worked on moving the rubble, aware that it would likely be hours before they even reached what used to be the kitchen.

Heredil and the twins were in the front, clearing stone and debris as if their lives depended on it…which they did.

"Do you think that they are alive?" Elrohir couldn't help but ask his brother.

Elladan sighed, pausing to look at him. His eyes showed the same fear that Elrohir felt, but he put a hand on his twin's shoulder. "We must have hope. Ada is strong, as are Thranduil and Legolas."

Elrohir echoed the sigh, but he nodded and continued removing rock from the pile.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The three injured elves had no coherent measure of time, or rather, the King and Prince didn't. Elrond was still unconscious, to their immense worry.

Thranduil was lying on the floor now, with Legolas' head pillowed on his stomach. Both elves were in terrible pain, and they prayed that they would be found quickly.

Thranduil alternated between smoothing his son's hair and checking Elrond's pulse. Time went by extremely slow, and Legolas eventually passed out again. The King had been alarmed by that, but he was grateful that at least his son was free from pain for a while.

Time continued to pass, and a short time later, Thranduil heard a wonderful sound: Elrond groaned.

"Elrond!" he exclaimed, sitting up and shifting his son's head to his lap. Pain flared through his body, but he ignored it. "Elrond?"

The dark-haired elf made no reply, remaining immobile.

The King placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Elrond? Wake, you stubborn Noldo!"

Elrond's eyes fluttered and he groaned again.

Thranduil tapped his friend's face, trying to assist him in waking.

Elrond's eyes suddenly squeezed shut tightly and his face screwed up in a grimace. He slowly brought up his right arm and laid a hand over his eyes.

"Elrond?" said Thranduil, nervously.

The other elf made another pained sound, remaining still.

Thranduil reached over and gently removed his friend's hand, trying to see his eyes. "Mellon-nin, please look at me."

Elrond obeyed, opening his eyes slightly. He looked completely confused, squinting to see the face above him.

"How do you feel?" the King asked, thinking it a ridiculous question.

Elrond sighed, closing his eyes. "Terrible." He placed his hand over his eyes again. "Where…are we…?" His voice was soft and weak, his face very pale.

"The kitchen," said the King. "It has collapsed; rainwater must have eroded the ground underneath us."

"Kitchen?" Elrond repeated. He sounded dazed.

Thranduil frowned. "The main kitchen of the Mirkwood Palace." When Elrond still showed no understanding, a chill went down the King's spine. "Elrond—do you know who I am?"

The other elf squinted again, giving no answer.

Thranduil lifted a hand to his own head as his headache increased thanks to the frightening implications of this new situation.

Suddenly, a hand touched his leg, and he opened his eyes.

Elrond was blinking, eyebrows furrowed. "Th—?" he said, trying to recall his friend's name.

The King said nothing, wanting Elrond to remember on his own, but the healer said no more, closing his eyes with a frustrated sigh.

Thranduil patted his friend's arm, in shock over his memory loss. "What do you remem—"

"Legolas!"

With that, Elrond struggled to sit up, reaching for the unconscious young elf.

Thranduil tried to hold him down with his good arm. "Elrond! Stay there; do not move!"

"What happened?" Elrond asked, finally sounding more coherent. His eyes were closed again though, as his sudden movement sent pain spreading through his body.

Thranduil frowned. "I told you, the kitchen collapsed."

A confused expression crossed Elrond's face again. "Kitchen?"

Thranduil blinked. "In the Mirkwood Palace. Do you not recall?"

Elrond reopened his eyes and looked around the room, trying not to move his splitting head. "The kitchen…collapsed?" he echoed for the third time.

Before Thranduil had a chance to react to his friend's obviously-serious problem, Legolas suddenly groaned.

Elrond tried to sit up again, but Thranduil prevented him.

"Legolas?" said the King. "Remain still."

The younger elf opened his eyes, wincing.

Elrond tried again to sit up, but Thranduil stopped him, knowing that his friend would probably lose consciousness again, with his head injury being so severe.

Legolas' eyebrows shot up at the sight of Elrond awake, but his expression turned into one of confusion at the elf-lord's words.

The healer made an exasperated sound at the King, angry at being restrained. "Let me see my son!"

Thranduil frowned again. "Your son? Legolas is my son!"

Elrond stopped struggling, groaning and closing his eyes.

Legolas stared at Elrond, wondering if he'd heard correctly.

"Elrond, I admit that you are frightening me!" said Thranduil.

The Noldo elf reopened his eyes, confusion still evident in them. He said nothing for a minute, before shifting his gaze to the King. "I appear to have suffered damage to my head."

Very good, Elrond. "Aye," Thranduil said.

"I cannot recall what happened," Elrond went on, sounding shocked. "The memory is gone from me." He looked at Legolas again, squinting at the slab of stone that hid his lower body. "Oh, penneth!" he said.

"I am all right," Legolas said. The weakness and pain in his voice showed his words to be a lie.

"Thranduil?" said Elrond.

"Yes?" said the King, overjoyed to hear his old friend finally remember his name.

"Please help me sit up." Fear over his friend's conditions had filled him with adrenaline, giving him some strength that he intended to put to good use.

The King's eyebrows shot up. "That is not wise, Elrond, in your condition—"

"I know my condition," Elrond snapped. "I have a concussion. My leg and wrist are broken. My ribs are bruised. But, I still need to check Legolas." He squinted at the King. "And you."

Thranduil said nothing, staring at the pale, pained face of his son.

Elrond tried to sit up again, and the King helped him, wrapping his good arm around his friend's back.

Elrond couldn't prevent a gasp at the pain that filled his body. His head spun sickeningly and nausea gripped his stomach. His eyes closed by themselves, and he slumped against Thranduil, his meager strength quickly lost.

The King had expected something like that, but he hadn't expected his own broken rib to be jarred in the process. His gasp of pain somehow got through to Elrond, who tried to squirm away from his friend even as he gasped from pain himself.

Thranduil held onto his friend despite his rib's protest.

The healer had, ironically, underestimated his own condition, and shook with the effort of not passing out. If his friend hadn't been holding him so tightly, he would've fallen flat on the floor.

Taking advantage of his upright position—not sure how long it would last—Elrond shakily reached over to check Legolas' pulse, but his blurred vision made him miss the younger elf's arm. His nausea suddenly got worse and his vision turned gray. He clamped a hand over his mouth, praying that whatever was in his stomach would stay there.

Thranduil debated whether or not to lay Elrond down again. He knew that if he did, Elrond probably would stay down—which is where he belonged, but the King was afraid for his son, and wanted Elrond's assessment…if he was able to give one…

Elrond was relieved when the contents of his stomach miraculously stayed put. He realized that he had no idea how long he'd lain unconscious; his stomach, thankfully, appeared to be empty. He shakily removed his hand, breathing heavily; his head had never in his long life hurt as badly as it did at that moment and he actually wished that he had passed out…he was sure that he probably would before the hour was up.

"Elrond?" Legolas said, frightened to see the elf in such bad physical shape.

The healer opened his eyes, finding his vision not only blurred, but doubled, now. "Thranduil," he said, sounding much weaker. "Assist me."

For an indeterminable amount of time, they King helped Elrond examine Legolas. Thranduil literally had to place the healer's hand where he wanted it; Elrond's vision was so affected by his head injury. It was very upsetting that nothing could be done about the stone slab sitting on the Prince's hip, and they were unable to get to his injured knee.

Elrond, whose skin had always been darker than Thranduil and Legolas' thanks to his human blood, looked paler than they could've ever imagined. He tried to stick his arm through a gap in the stone slabs, but it was too narrow.

Thranduil held onto his friend, fearing that the Lord of Imladris would fall without the support.

Elrond eventually gave up trying to reach Legolas' legs, and tried to sit back up.

Thranduil gently helped him, but Elrond would've been better off lying down instead, for lifting his head caused it to painfully spin. The next thing he saw was blackness.

Thranduil gasped when Elrond went limp, barely stopping him from falling across Legolas. "Elrond!" he exclaimed, laying his friend down.

The dark-haired elf gave no answer, unconscious once more.

Legolas reached out a hand towards the elf who he considered a second father, but he couldn't reach over Thranduil.

The King checked his friend's pulse, finding it beating much too fast. He sighed heavily, which nearly drove himself to the floor from his own pain.

"Ada," said Legolas, his voice pain-filled and weak. Thranduil could tell from his tone that he was reaching the end of his endurance.

"We will be out soon, ion-nin," said Thranduil, carefully lying down with his son's head still in his lap. His injured shoulder and arm protested vehemently, and his own senses seemed to swim, later making him unsure if he'd passed out or fallen asleep…

TBC (runs)