G'day, everyone. So, yes... It really has been a very long time since I updated. I've not had the money in over a year to replace my computer (which as some may know, stopped working.) I lost all the work I had done on these, and struggled to get back into it. But, a random old woman chose me to have a serious conversation with. "If you start something you love, prove you love it by giving it the end it deserves."

And so, with those words in mind I got myself a computer. And for the last three hours, I have worked to write this chapter for you all, and despite not proofreading it I am uploading it at 1.30am for you to enjoy - if anyone is still reading, after all this time.

As the Patrol group slowly worked its way back towards the Elvenking's halls, Thranduil fell into step beside Elladan. The older twin was quiet, his eyes cloudy with unknown thoughts. He barely glanced in the Elven King's direction, his focused instead focused upon two stretchers, carried by four of the Elven patrol. Thranduil's gaze fell upon them, taking in the younger Sons of Elrond lying upon them.

Estel's face was grey, and covered in a thin layer of sweat. His eyes were closed, but Thranduil was relieved to see his chest rising and falling at a steady pace. The Elven King knew the young man would remain unconscious for another few hours.

Elrohir, on the other hand, had woken up a half hour earlier. His eyes were half closed, but Thranduil could hear the quiet murmur of voices as he talked with Beridhren. The younger twin's head was wrapped in a white bandage, a stark contrast against his raven hair.

The Elven King shook his head, before looking back at the twin walking beside him.

"Tell me, penneth," He asked, "why is it that you can never venture into my lands without either yourself or your brother being injured?"

Elladan raised an eyebrow, glancing over at the King.

"I'm sure I don't quite know what you mean." He replied, his voice innocent. "We are usually in fine health when we visit."

"The last time I saw you here, you had an arrow in your shoulder."
"A mere hunting accident." Thranduil's eyebrow quirked.

"Before that, Elrohir arrived with a broken ankle."

"Yet another accident. The paths around here are in a terrible state."

"How about the time you both arrived with concussions, and collapsed at the gate?"

"I don't remember that ever occurring."

"As I said, you were concussed." Elladan snorted, a small smile appearing on his face.

"I suppose when you review the evidence, it may be true that we are rarely at full health when we arrive. But that is hardly our fault. Accidents do happen." The Son of Elrond defended. Thranduil smirked, his eyebrow rising.

"It truly amazes me that you and your twin are considered two of the most fearsome and graceful warriors in all of Middle Earth- yet your brother managed to break his ankle while simply walking through the forest."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

There was no light in the cell, save for the weak fluttering of a torch outside the door. The light illuminated the figure of a lone Elf, shackled against the far wall. His eyes were locked on the door, unblinking.

Three days. Three days had passed since he had failed.

He was angry with himself. What should have been so easy, had turned into a complete disaster. It had taken him almost ten years to prepare himself for the attack- and now, chained in the darkest pit Celegon had been able to throw him in, he had no clue if he had managed to succeed- the guards did not speak when walking past his cell, and they refused to even look at him when they brought him food and water.

He assumed the King was not yet aware of his actions- of the attempt on his life. In some ways, he felt slight guilt that it was the Prince instead, that was to bear the pains- and agonizing death- that the poison was promised to bring.

The poison.

Upon his arrest, the guards had removed all of his personal belongings- save for his necklace. In the shape of an Oliphaunt, the necklace had been ignored as a worthless trinket. They had found the vial of poison in his sleeve pocket, along with his dagger and needle. As far as the guards were aware, he was defeated and defenceless. But they were wrong.

They have no clue.

He thought to himself. He fought the smirk that rippled across his face. They had no clue that he had prepared for this scenario. If they did, the guards would more than likely have executed him on the spot.

He lent his head back against the damp stone wall. For now, he would wait.

After all, he thought. I have waited for ten years- I can wait a little longer.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

As the Sun began to set once more, Beridhren drew the group to a halt.

"We will remain here for tonight- if we try to travel on in the darkness, we will surely meet trouble." He announced, loosening the straps on his medical satchel. "Bring the wounded to the middle, and build the fires up around us." He ordered, before turning and signalling to Thranduil.

"My Lord, it is high time I looked at your wounds once more." He informed his King. With a sigh, the King moved to sit down beside the warrior. As Beridhren began to clean the wounds from the Orc battle, Thranduil's eyes were once more drawn to the eldest Son of Elrond.

Elladan moved quickly to his Human brother's side as his stretcher was lowered to the ground, running his hands over Estel's injured leg as he began to check the wound. As he began to undress the wound, the human's eyes fluttered open. Elladan immediately stopped what he was doing, to quietly address his brother. Thranduil smiled, relief flooding through him when Elladan's gentle laughter reached his ears.

Suddenly, a loud moan from behind him caused him to jump. Looking over his shoulder, he suddenly remembered the Elf that had been injured in the original skirmish with the Orcs. The King felt a sudden wave of guilt as he realised he had completely forgotten about the Archer. As he watched, the injured elf's body suddenly began to convulse, as if possessed. The Elf assisting him quickly grabbed a hold of his arms, attempting to stop the thrashing. Thranduil felt his own heart quicken, and he began to wonder what the young elf's chances were.

As if reading his mind, Beridhren let out a sigh.

"I do not believe that Thandir will last long. The wound he received was deep, and the long journey home has taken its toll on him. He may last the night, but it will not be a surprise if he does not."

Thranduil looked up at the Elven warrior, taking in the sorrow upon his face.

"I am truly sorry, Beridhren. I do not wish for you to lose one of your men in such a terrible way."

Beridhren did not reply, focusing instead upon the task of re-bandaging the King's arm. Behind them, they could still hear the thrashing of the Archer, as the poison in his system continued to attack him.

All of a sudden, the noise stopped as quickly as it had begun. His heart in his throat, Thranduil turned his head- fully expecting to see that Thandir had passed away.

Instead, he saw the young Elf lying in the arms of another, his eyes blinking slowly as the Elf holding him silently looked down at him. With a sigh, Thranduil realised that the younger son of Elrond had managed to pull himself over to Thandir, using his good arm to pull the elf into his lap.

"Elrohir, you should be resting." Elladan suddenly called out to his twin. "You are not yet recovered."

"I am fine, my dear brother." Elrohir replied. "Besides, Thandir needs healing more than I do."

Elladan huffed, and Thranduil did not doubt he would have picked his brother up and placed him back on the stretcher, if Estel was not currently holding his hand.

"I will sleep soon, Brother. I have the energy to spare. Allow me to help Thandir while I still can." Elrohir turned his gaze onto his brother, his grey eyes meeting his twin. A few moments passed, before Elladan nodded. Elrohir turned his attention back to the young Elf in his arms.

"Rest, my King. You need your strength." Beridhren suddenly ordered as he stood. Thranduil turned to look at him once more, prepared to argue. He opened his mouth to protest, but closed it again. Now he thought about it, a sleep would do him some good.

As he lay down by the fire, he heard the low hum of Thandir's voice.

"Lord Elrohir?"

"Yes?"

"Will you sing for me?" Thandir asked.

"If you wish."

The low, gentle voice of the Son of Elrond slowly began to fill the camp. As he sang, Thranduil felt a sudden drowsiness take over. As his thoughts began to drift, he heard two more gentle voices join the first. As the brothers sang, Thranduil's thoughts drifted to Elrond. He realised how much the Lord of Imladris must fret over the three brothers every time they left on patrol. A sudden pang of worry filled him, as he remembered the dread he had felt those few days earlier.

Valar, I hope Legolas is alright.

I love reviews, so please let me know if you are interested in seeing this to the end with me!

~TheElrohir