Author's Note: Thank you so much for your reviews! I love hearing your thoughts and comments about my story. :) I also want to give a special thank you to Anon, eli, and Mrs. Staffel – I really enjoy your reviews, even if I can't answer them. (hugs all reviewers) Here's a long chapter that should answer many of your questions (and will hopefully save me from the poking wrath of a certain reviewer ;-). Feedback is very welcome:D

Warning: Probable tissue alert.

Disclaimer: See Chapter One. Nestadren and Tuilinn are mine. YAY!!!

Chapter Eleven: The Will to Live

"Life begins on the other side of despair."
Jean-Paul Sartre

When Legolas awoke again he felt much better. He could not remember having ever felt so weak before in his life, but he was able to think clearly and when he opened his eyes he immediately recognized his surroundings. There was no sign that anything had ever been wrong with his sight, and when he concentrated on his body a steady pain in his thigh and a light headache were all that still reminded him of the ordeal he had been through.

He was in one of the healing rooms in the Palace, a place that felt almost as familiar to him as his own chambers. One look was enough to tell him that it was already late in the afternoon. It was stormy outside, and the light in the room changed with the movements of the treetops swaying in the wind in front of the large windows. Legolas heard the rejoicing of the big trees in the Queen's Garden when they noticed that he had regained consciousness.

Those trees had been planted by his mother and had known him and been his friends since the day he was born. Legolas could not help smiling at their relief and excitement. He greeted them silently, though he did not feel like rejoicing himself. He remembered all that had happened to him now, even if some of the memories were vague thanks to the fever and the poison that had wrought havoc inside of him.

Together with the memories came the same cold fear that had already plagued him the last time he had awoken, but now that he knew what had happened it was much worse. The memories of Estel dying were more than he could bear. He could still feel the grief eating away at his soul, and for a moment he wondered how he could still be alive.

Then he remembered the soothing voice that had been with him all the time while he had only been one step away from death's door, and he knew that Thranduil must have used all the strength and the love he had to keep his son from fading. Legolas closed his eyes, shutting out the sight of the ceiling he had been staring at for quite some time now. He could not have died with his father at his side, nor could he do so now and force Thranduil to go through the same pain he did.

Still, he was not sure if he could bear staying alive. Learning about his friend's fate seemed to require more courage than he had. Aragorn had been almost dead when Thranduil had miraculously appeared in front of his son. Legolas did not know how he would be able to bear surviving if Estel had not. He feared the knowledge of the man's fate even more than he had feared being captured by the orcs again.

Legolas had been willing to die rather than leave his friend behind. He knew that he might be forced to face something that was worse than his own death now. Outside, a gust of wind drove raindrops against the windows, and the windowpanes rattled. Legolas listened to the sounds of the storm for a while, but they only reminded him of the night when he and Aragorn had been forced to walk through the thunderstorm.

Aragorn had been weak and in pain then, but he had still been alive. The thought hurt, and Legolas almost wished he could be able to turn back the time. He opened his eyes again when he heard soft steps coming towards him. From the moment he had awoken he had known that he was not alone in the room, and he knew that he could not hide behind closed eyelids forever. Besides, any elf who was near the Queen's Garden would know by now that he had regained consciousness.

The steps had a strange rhythm to them that told him immediately who the other person in the room was. There was only one limping elf in Mirkwood, and perhaps in the whole of Middle-earth. Legolas turned his head and found himself looking at an elf with aquiline features and silvery hair, whose light grey eyes were watching him intently.

The elf wore a simple grey tunic, and his hair was held back from his face by warrior braids. No one who did not know him could have taken him for anything else but a warrior. In fact, Nestadren had been a fearsome warrior once, before the battle of Dagorlad. He had been a member of King Oropher's personal guard then, respected for both his deadly skills with a blade and his loyalty to the royal family. The battle of Dagorlad had cost him both his health and almost everyone he had cared for, including the king he had been sworn to protect. He had been found unconscious and severely wounded on the battlefield, not too far from the place where Oropher had fallen.

Nestadren's wounds had healed with time, but the damage done to one leg had been more extensive than even his elven self-healing power and the most skilled healers could repair. Since then, he had to drag one leg slightly, which made the rhythm of his steps unmistakable. Rather than doing as any other elf in his situation, Nestadren had decided to forego the journey to the White Shores for the time being and stay in Middle-earth.

As a reason for staying he claimed that no descendent of Oropher would ever be able to survive for long if someone did not keep a close eye on him, while Thranduil declared that Nestadren was simply too stubborn to sail and finally grant them some peace. Legolas himself had never taken Nestadren's decision for anything else but remarkable courage.

After he had finally recovered from his wounds, Nestadren had chosen to give up being a warrior and become a healer instead. Soon his reputation as a healer had equalled the fame he had had as a warrior. By the time Legolas was born, Nestadren had already advanced to the position of head healer of the Palace.

Thranduil and his wife soon decided to put the welfare of their son entirely in Nestadren's hands, as it became clear that he was the only healer whose orders Legolas would follow – and who was quickly able to track him down if Legolas decided to leave bed or healing room prematurely. Thranduil was heard to say that only someone as stubborn and mule-headed as his son was able to treat him. Fact was, Nestadren was the only person in Mirkwood apart from the queen who was able to give orders to both prince and king and be obeyed.

While he was still an elfling, Legolas admired Nestadren greatly and saw him as both example and hero. When he had grown up and become a warrior himself, the old healer became something between a friend and the uncle he had never had and, after the death of the queen, sometimes a mediator between a strong-willed, protective king and an equally strong-willed, freedom-loving prince. They both had to thank him for much.

Even if he had not recognized the unmistakable rhythm of the healer's steps, Legolas would have expected Nestadren to be somewhere close by, as he usually was whenever he was seriously wounded. The older elf scrutinized him quietly for some moments, then, finally, he smiled. "Welcome back, my prince," he said warmly.

Legolas smiled back at him, but the smile did not reach his eyes and they were both aware of it. "It is good to see you," Legolas answered, and he meant it. The idea of never seeing his father, Nestadren, and other friends again before his death had hurt more than he cared to remember.

Legolas hesitated, but then he forced himself to face what he feared most. "Nestadren, there is something I need to know. Estel… is he…?"

He could not speak on, but he knew that Nestadren understood. The expression in the healer's eyes changed slightly, but Legolas was unable to interpret it. Apprehension? Sorrow? Compassion? Nestadren's lips parted, and Legolas could not help tensing in a vain effort to steel himself against whatever the healer was going to say.

"I am here," a soft voice spoke up suddenly from the other side of the bed.

Legolas froze. His eyes searched Nestadren's face, but the healer obviously had not said anything, and he was looking at someone or something behind his patient. Legolas turned his head so quickly that a muscle in his neck cramped. On a bed a short distance away from his own lay a familiar figure propped up against some pillows.

Aragorn looked back at him with a half-smile on his face and relief in his eyes. The only thing Legolas could do was stare at him, an expression of shock on his face. The man was still almost as pale as he remembered him, but otherwise he seemed to be well, and a book on his lap indicated that he had been reading until now.

It seemed almost impossible that this was the same man who had been only a hair's breadth away from dying the last time Legolas had seen him. The elf had not believed that he would ever meet Estel again in this life, even if he had implored Thranduil to save his friend. He had never felt Aragorn die, but then he had been unconscious for long periods of time, and with the need to protect his friend the strong connection between them seemed to be gone, too.

Legolas had never really doubted that the man was dead – not after feeling his friend's life slowly drain away during the fight and before. He could not have survived, and yet here he was. Legolas did not dare look away for even a moment. A part of him could not help fearing that he was still dreaming and the image in front of him would vanish if he even so much as blinked.

While the elf's mind was still trying to wrap itself around the realization that his friend had somehow, against all odds, managed to survive, his heart began to beat faster when a timid hope began to grow and take roots. He continued staring at Estel's face as if wanting to compare each line, each plane, each feature to his memory and make sure that what he saw was real.

Aragorn did not shy away from the almost desperate intensity of the elf's gaze, but met it unflinchingly, understanding in his eyes. He, too, remembered their last moments together, when they both had been convinced that this would be a final goodbye. He also could not fail to notice the almost palpable shadow of grief and sadness that seemed to cover up both his friend's natural elven glow and the usual brightness of his eyes.

The ranger was very aware of what believing him to be dead a second time in only two weeks must have done to the elf. He could never entirely forget that elves could die from grief – it was a love and a loyalty he had come to both fear and admire. Aragorn still remembered the cold fright of the moment when he had woken up for the first time and found Legolas lying on the bed right beside him, eyes closed and looking far worse than at the time he had freed his friend from the orcs' camp.

Luckily, the elf had been already out of the worst danger at that time, and Nestadren had been quickly able to convince Aragorn of it. Learning what Legolas had done after he had lost consciousness had been the second and almost worse shock for the human. What his friend must have gone through for his sake was nothing he even wanted to think about.

Nestadren's report of how and in what state they had found Legolas had made his blood run cold and would probably haunt his dreams for days to come. To see Legolas awake again and hear his voice after all that had happened to them was a gift he cherished, and the only thing that was truly able to calm his worries. It was easy for Aragorn to understand how much more difficult things must be for Legolas, who until now had believed him to be dead, and had already fallen into grief because of it.

After a while, Legolas relaxed slightly, hesitantly, and the shock in his eyes gave way to wonder. "You are alive," he managed to whisper, unable to deny any longer what his heart and his eyes told him.

"Yes, I am," Aragorn replied gently. "Very much so."

Legolas kept staring at him. A hint of fear and doubt kept nagging at his mind. His dearest wish had come true, and yet he could not help feeling slightly lost and confused, almost overwhelmed by a situation that could not be true and yet seemed to be.

Reading the varying and conflicting emotions flickering in Legolas' eyes and instantly understanding the reason for them, Aragorn added quietly, but firmly: "I am no dream. I swear to you I am real – though I fear I am not able to get you out of here just yet."

A sudden change in Legolas' eyes told him that the elf remembered immediately when he had used those words for the first time, and why. Legolas calmed visibly, and the doubt vanished slowly from his eyes. For a long moment he looked at the ranger wonderingly, then, suddenly, he began to smile. The smile was so radiant and filled with joy that it lightened Aragorn's heart and made him smile as well.

His weakness and his injuries forgotten for the moment, Legolas made to sit up and rise, only to realize that his body refused to cooperate with him. A sudden piercing pain in his leg made him feel as if he had just been hit by another arrow, and he slumped back into his pillow with a gasp, just as Nestadren grabbed his shoulders to press him back down. Feeling completely exhausted from the ridiculously small exertion, Legolas murmured almost happily, "This can be no dream. No dream can hurt that much."

He turned his head again to look at Aragorn, who had risen on one elbow and was watching him worriedly. The elf gifted him with a short, reassuring smile. Satisfied that his friend had taken no serious harm, Aragorn relaxed back into the pillows that were propped up behind him, allowing him to remain in a half-sitting position.

"Indeed it is no dream," Nestadren answered, frowning down at his patient. "I hope this has at least taught you not to move again, or to do anything even more foolish like trying to stand up. Besides, I can assure you that Estel is very much alive. He has been harassing me with questions about the way the poison works and the ingredients of the antidote from the moment he first woke up, and since then we have been arguing about ways to improve it."

Legolas had to smile at that. "Then it must be him," he commented weakly. "Even half-dead that ranger can be more annoying than anyone else I know."

"I think black squirrels are much more annoying than an antidote," Aragorn murmured.

Ignoring him completely Legolas met Nestadren's gaze. "I take it the antidote is improved now?" he asked pleasantly.

Nestadren's frown deepened. "It is," the healer admitted reluctantly.

Legolas enjoyed his old friend's uneasiness for some seconds before he became serious again and his gaze sought Aragorn's face once more. The pain in his head and thigh had increased, and on top of his weakness he was beginning to feel very tired again. Before he had to give in to sleep once more there were some answers he needed.

"But… how?" he asked softly. "How is this possible? The last time I saw you, you… you were dying." Just speaking the words made his heart ache, but the sight of his friend alive and seemingly well in front of him lessened the pain.

Aragorn and Nestadren exchanged a glance, and the ranger nodded slightly to show that he wanted the healer to do the talking. After all, Nestadren had been there, while Aragorn only found his way back to consciousness when he was already lying in a healing room in the Palace.

The healer scrutinized his royal patient's face for a moment longer, trying to judge his state. Not entirely pleased with what he saw, but aware that Legolas needed to know what had happened, he finally began to speak.

"About four days after you had left to meet Estel, Tuilinn came limping back to the Palace," he said. "He had many injuries, and was practically dead on his feet. His hooves were coated in black blood, so it was easy for us to guess what had happened."

Seeing the worry in Legolas' eyes, Nestadren added, "Your stallion will recover completely, though I truly do not envy the healer who had to take care of him."

Legolas smiled at him gratefully, and Nestadren went on, "You know your father. He immediately summoned all warriors who were here and able to leave on short notice and me as well. He only waited until I had gathered all the antidotes and medicines I thought I might need, had us grab our weapons and mount our horses, and galloped out of the gates at the head of our small troupe."

The healer did not mention that none of them had really needed any prodding, as they all had seen Tuilinn and were only too well aware of what situation their prince might be in, if he still lived at all. Nestadren himself had not doubted that Thranduil would have somehow been able to feel his son's death, so he had banned any thoughts of finding only a corpse from his mind.

The healer had had no intention of losing the young elf the same way he had lost so many of his friends and his family so many years ago, as long as there was anything he could do to prevent it. Nestadren did not like to remember the following ride. The worst about it had not been any hardship it posed for any of them, but that they were unable to move as fast as they wanted to.

They could not risk driving their horses or themselves to exhaustion as long as they did not know how many enemies they would be up against. More warriors would follow them as soon as possible, but for the moment the elves' numbers were small. The delay had been hard for them all, but Thranduil suffered most in the days it took them to reach the Forest Gate.

The king had not once spoken about his feelings or what might await them once they had arrived at their destination, but Nestadren was quite sure that Thranduil had been unable to find any sleep, even though he seemed to be resting like the others did. When it was his turn to watch, the king would always stand at the edge of the camp, never sitting down, staring out into the dark forest as if listening or searching for something.

While Nestadren had done his best not to think about what the loss of Legolas would mean for his own heart, he had been well aware of what consequences Legolas' death would have for Thranduil and his entire kingdom. Those few days had been long and dark and filled with worry and fear for all of them.

Nestadren sighed and shook himself out of his dark memories, knowing it would do no one any good if he dwelled on them, resuming his tale instead. "When we finally arrived at the Forest Gate, we had to search around for a while until we found out where the battle had taken place. The orcs seemed to have taken their dead with them, and they tried to hide the body of Estel's horse, but they did not make much effort to cover their traces and the trees still remembered the fight.

Some of us wanted to follow the orcs' trail, but Thranduil held them back. Afterwards, your father went a short way into the forest, either to think or to commune with the trees, I do not know. When he came back he immediately ordered us to mount our horses and led us back right the way we had come, until he suddenly swerved into the forest. All of us could now hear the trees calling out to us, asking us to make haste, and we did."

The mad ride through the gloomy forest, trying to stay on the heels of a king whose stallion suddenly seemed to have grown wings was another memory Nestadren did not value overmuch, but this time he lost no time thinking about it.

"We arrived just at the right moment to see a big orc aim at you – or rather, what was left of you - with a crossbow," he went on, his voice slightly hoarse. "The king had his longbow in his hands before I could even rein my horse in, and the arrow left the string before the first orc even so much as noticed our presence. The arrow pierced the orc's arm and he missed you by a hair's breadth. Your father drove his horse right into the middle of those orcs, and the rest of us followed him immediately."

"So that is why the arrow did not kill me," Legolas murmured. "I knew he was aiming to kill that time. What happened then?"

Nestadren hesitated, and once again he and Aragorn exchanged a glance. "Do you remember anything of what happened next?" the healer asked finally.

Legolas frowned, trying to concentrate as far as tiredness and his muddled memories allowed. "Not much," he confessed then. "There was something like a red mist in front of my eyes, and I was no longer able to think clearly. I was not aware of much else but the pain… but I think there was another orc trying to attack me. I wounded him and he vanished, and then my father was kneeling in front of me, though I did not recognize him at first."

The healer nodded slowly. "That orc was no orc, but a member of your father's guard trying to approach you," he informed the younger elf gently.

Legolas stared at him. "I… I attacked an elf?" he asked, stunned.

"Not really," Nestadren answered, trying to soothe his charge. "Due to the advanced stage of the poison and your wounds, you were in a state that made it impossible for you to recognize who or what he was."

"He is not… is he… dead?" Legolas asked anxiously.

"No," the healer hastened to reassure him. "He is alive and well and does not hold anything against you. Nothing of this was your fault."

Legolas closed his eyes, both shaken and infinitely relieved. His fault or not, he did not know how he would have been able to live with the knowledge that he had killed another elf, who had risked his life trying to rescue him. He felt Nestadren's hand on his shoulder and was grateful for the silent support. He opened his eyes again and met the healer's concerned gaze. "Tell him I am sorry," he said quietly.

"I will," Nestadren answered, his eyes softening, "but I believe he is already aware of that."

"I remember almost nothing after my father spoke to me," Legolas said softly. "I do not even remember his words. I did not believe that I would ever wake up again, or that-" He broke off, his gaze straying to Estel's face once more, as if to make sure that his friend was still there.

"Given the state you were in, that does not surprise me," Nestadren commented. "When I first caught sight of you and Estel I had not much hope that we would be able to save either of you. Our attack surprised the orcs so much that we managed to drive them away for a while. After you had collapsed, I treated both you and Estel to the best of my abilities, and then we decided to bring you back to the Palace. I was not happy about having to move either of you, but it was still better than waiting for the orcs to come back."

Nestadren fell silent for a while, and a shadow seemed to fall over his face. For him, what followed had been the darkest moments, when he had begun to believe that they had been too late after all and that all his considerable skills would not be enough this time.

"You were both at death's door." He looked at Legolas. "I could not do much for Estel but administer the antidote and hope that it was not too late. I believe the fact that he himself treated his wound with athelas before may have helped, though I am still not sure how he found the strength to fight his way back. Even when I first examined him, he was still fighting the poison each step of the way. Nonetheless, he would not have survived through the rest of that day."

Legolas turned his head, searching and meeting Aragorn's gaze. He smiled at his human friend warmly. "I will never complain about you being stubborn again, ranger," he said.

"Neither will I ever complain about your mule-headedness again, elf," Aragorn replied, smiling back at him fondly.

Legolas frowned at him and looked then at Nestadren questioningly. "Why is he suddenly in a better state than I am?" he asked. "The last time I saw him he was almost dead, but he has obviously woken up a long time before me."

"Well, he was not shot with a poisoned arrow after he had already been poisoned, he did not receive several wounds fighting dozens of orcs, he did not lose any blood in the same fight, he did not almost die from grief, and he had not been weakened before by spending some days in the captivity of orcs," Nestadren answered dryly.

Legolas blinked. "The arrow was poisoned?" he asked, surprised.

"Yes, it was," the healer confirmed. "You obviously caused enough trouble for the orcs that they decided to risk poisoning you anew." There was a hint of pride in his voice, though Nestadren's face was stern and his eyes still shadowed by dark memories.

"We almost lost you more than once. You were so weak that you would have succumbed to grief right then and there, if Thranduil had not used all his considerable power to draw you back and keep you with us. Even then, he could not cure your grief, but only try to hold on to you."

Nestadren did not mention that he had almost feared to lose both king and prince for some time, as Thranduil had given Legolas all the strength he had without regard to his own welfare. But the king's determination had won the battle, and he had recovered quickly.

"After the king had managed to stabilize you, you still had twice as much poison in your veins as Aragorn did, and you had not been treated with athelas. I needed days to clean the poison from your blood, and in the beginning we had to stop frequently to treat you anew or wait until another crisis had passed."

Legolas listened silently, perhaps only now realizing what their rescuers must have gone through since he had collapsed into his father's arms.

"The poison is gone now," Nestadren added, reading the silent question in the younger elf's eyes. "You are only suffering from the after-effects of both the poison and the grief – and the wounds, of course."

Again, Legolas did not comment on the healer's words. While listening to Nestadren recounting the events after they had first been found, he had realized for the first time that something important was missing – something he should have missed right away, or at least much earlier. It told him more about his condition than anything the healer had said so far.

"Where is Adar?" he asked, suddenly afraid that Thranduil might have exhausted himself in his fight for his son's life, or that he had been wounded in the fight with the orcs and Nestadren had chosen not to mention it to him. His father was not likely to leave his side voluntarily after he had been wounded.

For a moment the only answer was silence, then Nestadren turned away and stepped to a table cluttered with herbs and bandages which stood near Legolas' bed. Increasingly worried, Legolas looked at Aragorn instead, but the man's gaze rested on Nestadren, and so Legolas looked back at the healer as well.

"The king has gone… hunting," Nestadren finally said in a voice that showed nothing of his feelings. He began mixing some herbs and crushing them with a pestle.

To be continued…

Well, Aragorn is definitely very alive and now only the king is missing. I think it isn't difficult to guess what he's doing right now. ;-)

Additional Author's Notes (for the very curious):

(1) Characters: Tuilinn and Nestadren are original characters of mine. Tuilinn is Legolas' horse, a big grey stallion who is known both for his speed and his ornery character. The name means 'swallow'. Tuilinn was first introduced in my "Dawn of Friendship"-collection. Nestadren had his first and only appearance so far in "Winter Solstice".

(2) Travel Distances: I did my best to keep the distances between places and the times needed to cover them realistic throughout this story. The necessary information was taken from Karen Wynn Fonstad's "The Atlas of Tolkien's Middle-Earth" and Pentangle-linnon's text "Horse Distances in ME". Any mistakes I made are my own fault. ;-)

(3) Thranduil's Caverns: For the record: my description of the Palace is at least partly AU. I simply can't see my wood-elves living entirely in caves, even for the sake of safety. The caverns are still there, but Thranduil and his people only live in them permanently when they are under attack.

(4) Aragorn's Identity: Aragorn is known to the elves in Mirkwood as Estel, adoptive son of Lord Elrond of Rivendell, but Thranduil and Nestadren are aware of his true identity.