Flu
Legolas woke early, and climbed a nearby rock to softly sing to the morning, wishing he could be in a tall tree singing loudly to his homeland with his friends.
Having greeted the day, the wood-elf returned to the grassy campsite, to prepare breakfast. He, like the rest of the Fellowship, seldom took care of meals, since Sam had decided that it was his job to keep them well fed. Legolas and occasionally Aragorn would hunt, and Legolas planned to cook the leftover catch from the previous evening for breakfast.
As he stirred up the fire in preparation to cook a uniquely Greenwood trail breakfast, Legolas realised the no-one else was awake. He wasn't sure who had been assigned the final watch, but scattered about the campsite were all eight of his companions, fast asleep.
Frowning thoughtfully, Legolas took a time to thoroughly inspect their surroundings, finding nothing amiss. They were safe, at least.
When the fire was heated, the elf started cooking the meat. Usually, the hobbits would rise to the delicious smell of food, and Legolas knew that they would even rise for an unfamiliar meal. Today, however, though noses twitched, no hobbit rose eagerly in anticipation of food.
Leaving the trail breakfast in one of Sam's pots to keep warm by the fire, Legolas went to inspect his friends. Gandalf woke easily, but no others - Aragorn merely twitched and Gimli moaned, and Pippin groaned as Merry rolled away from him, exposing the youngster to the cool air. Gandalf woke with a little prodding.
"Mithrandir," Legolas said, worry in his voice, "could all our companions be poisoned? We have not come near any source of poison."
Gandalf shook his head. "Not poison, my young friend. Illness."
"Will they die?"
"No," Gandalf hastened to assure the young elf. "They might be senseless for a few days, and they will ache all over, but they will recover."
"Is there anything we can do to help?"
Gandalf gently touched Boromir's forehead, then Gimli's, and Aragorn's. "They have a fever. Take some cloths, and wet them, and place them on their foreheads. The hobbits, too - undoubtedly all have the same disease."
Legolas obeyed, and Gandalf sat by Pippin's side as the young hobbit shivered and moaned.
"They will need water and food," Gandalf informed Legolas.
"The pot by the fire has breakfast in it. I will fetch water and refill the skins," Legolas responded.
When Legolas returned, Gandalf insisted that he eat, and then the pair of them attempted to dribble water down their companions' throats, with mixed results.
Merry woke first, and he mumbled incoherently, the word "Strider" the only thing Legolas understood. Legolas coaxed the hobbit to relax, and drink some water, and even managed to get the hobbit to eat a little food. Merry mumbled some thanks, and then fell asleep once more.
Much the same occurred each time someone stirred, and both Gandalf and Legolas spent much time coaxing their companions to eat, drink or sleep.
Legolas hunted, and prepared meals that would be easy to eat for his sick companions, while Gandalf ordered him about - more wet cloths for their foreheads, when to attempt to feed any of them, and the occasional call for more blankets if one started shivering.
That evening, Legolas ate his meal with Gandalf, both in silence. The elf washed up the dishes while the Maia checked on Aragorn, and then Legolas climbed the rock from the morning again.
He sat down, his mind fixating on the concerning state his mortal companions were in. He had never seen anything like it, except perhaps one mission when Aldanna had been poisoned by some toadstools she mistook for edible mushrooms, and even then, the elleth had needed only to let the poison pass through her system, and drink lots of water.
Legolas checked from this high vantage point for any danger, and upon finding no sign of any enemies within sight, raised his voice in song. It was a song from his homeland, in the Silvan dialect still used among the wood-elves and the army, and not even Gandalf understood the words. It had a haunting melody, for the song spoke of the despair and confusion faced by the troops of the Greenwood during the Last Alliance, when their King - and most of their army - had fallen, leaving very few Elves to make the journey home.
When Legolas finished his song, he sat quietly, tears budding in his eyes. He did not understand illness, for elves do not get sick, except for poison. This unseen enemy which had struck down his companions scared Legolas, in a way Orcs never could.
Legolas sang again, but this time he spoke of familiar places and people, and of home. His clear voice drifted over the sleeping Fellowship, comforting despite the foreign words.
Two days later, Gimli's fever broke, and he looked up at Legolas, wiping his forehead with a wet cloth. "Hey," Legolas said softly to the weak Dwarf, "relax. I am looking after you. Gandalf said that if you feel able, you can sit by the fire to eat."
Gimli nodded silently, relaxing back into his blankets. "Maybe in a few minutes," he conceded a moment later. Legolas turned to check Boromir, and Gimli gripped his wrist in a surprisingly weak grasp. "Thank you," the proud Dwarf said.
"For what?" Legolas asked, genuinely confused by the atypical behaviour of the Dwarf.
"You have kept me alive these past hours, my friend," Gimli answered. "And I know that I am not the only one of us you have tended to."
"You are one of the Fellowship," Legolas answered. "I could not leave you to suffer. Now go eat."
As Gimli shuffled and grunted in his attempt to reach the campfire, Legolas checked on Boromir, and replaced the wet cloth cooling his fever.
He then checked on Pippin, who thought he was Aragorn.