Disclaimer: I own nothing Tolkien created.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Mirkwood's Plague

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A/N: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed. Here's the next chapter as promised.

Chapter 9 ~ Taking Hold

Legolas sat down in the seat placed next to his father's bed and took the king's cold, limp hand in his own. Thranduil stirred and mumbled something under his breath but did not wake. Legolas watched him sleeping for a while before taking a deep, steadying breath and standing. As much as he wanted to stay, watching over his father, making sure nothing terrible happened he knew that Mirkwood was in trouble and he was its only hope. He kissed Thranduil's forehead and squeezed his hand once more before walking from the room. He walked purposefully down the halls not allowing himself to be distracted by the horrendous scenes around him. As he reached the Great Hall, where he knew Elrond would be, he slowed. The crying of the dying and the sick got louder, growing in intensity so much that Legolas wondered how anyone could survive such anguish. Entering the Hall was like walking into a nightmare so shocking that you woke from your sleep with a scream. This, however, was no dream and Legolas did not wake up and instead of a scream a sob caught in his throat at the sight of his people in such agony.

There were people everywhere. Hardly any of the spacious Great Hall was free. Only small walkways that allowed the greatly outnumbered healers to walk amongst the multiple patients were visible on the floor. Amidst the chaos Legolas spotted Elrond who was leaning over a young maiden trying to get her to drink something but she seemed to only be capable of coughing it back up. Aragorn was also there, tending to the sick people who were still able to stand. It looked as though he was trying to calm them more than treat them. He glanced up at Legolas, a sorrowful look in his stormy grey eyes.

Legolas took another tentative step into the room but was quickly stopped by someone weakly calling his name. He looked down and saw one of the guards who had spent much of his time guarding the king and his family. Legolas knelt down next to him and took his cold hand.

"Your Highness," the guard said as formally as possible with a mouthful of blood. "No one is guarding the Eastern border, sir." The guard seemed genuinely concerned, looking to his prince for some kind of reassurance that he hadn't done anything drastically wrong.

"It's alright," Legolas said, almost choking on his words. "I'll sort it out."

This seemed to please the guard and he leaned back and closed his eyes with a sigh.

"My Lord, my family. My wife will not know what is wrong. She will be worried."

"I'll find her and let her know what happened," Legolas reassured trying to keep an even voice.

"Thank you." That was the guard's final breath. His hand loosened in Legolas' and his eyes glazed over. Legolas just sat there for a moment, staring at the now lifeless guard he had known all his life.

His thoughts were interrupted by another voice calling his name. He shuffled over to someone close by. The Elf, a healer, grabbed Legolas' arm, apparently forgetting his previous nervousness of the royal family.

"Prince, please tell my daughter that I love her very much." Legolas could only nod now, unable to force words past the lump in his throat. "Tell her I'm sorry I couldn't help her through this."

"I'll tell her," Legolas promised.

"Please, Sire, my wife, how is she?" the healer asked, squeezing Legolas' arm as tightly as his weak condition allowed. "She is right beside me but…I cannot see her."

Legolas looked to the Elf's side and saw a young maiden, lying completely still, eyes unseeing and glazed in death. He closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them again he saw that Elrond was now standing over him. He was looking sadly down at Legolas and the sick Elf he was talking to.

Legolas turned back to the patient and smiled as convincingly as he could, "She looks fine." He looked up at Elrond for approval and the elder Elf just nodded grimly. When he looked back to the healer he once more had his eyes closed, concentrating on continuing to breathe for his wife's sake.

Finally, Legolas stood up, looking to Elrond again as though he could offer some comfort. Looking at the devastation around him, Legolas had to use all his will-power to keep from running from the room.

"How many?" he asked Elrond.

"Roughly: two hundred patients. I have treated as many as I can but I don't know how much more I can do without a cure. There are more people coming in every minute."

"Excuse me, Your Highness," a healer with bloodied hands interrupted. Legolas could do nothing but stare at those hands. "Lord Elrond, ten more people just came in but we have no more room."

This seemed to jar Legolas out of his thoughts and he suddenly knew what he had to do. Choking back the cry that threatened to escape him at any moment he turned to face the entire room.

Above the cacophony of noise he shouted for people's attention, startling both Elrond and the healer.

"Please, listen to me." Slowly the noise calmed down from both patients and the struggling healers so they could hear their beloved prince. "I know this is a terrible situation, friends, but I ask you to try to remain strong. We are doing everything in our power to get this under control. Although no cure is currently available we are working on it and we will find it soon. Until then, I ask that you remain patient until a healer can tend to you. We are a strong kingdom. We will get through this." He paused for a moment. "We will be transferring some of you to the other halls. I ask that you all remain where you are and be strong." Legolas' speech was met with silence for a moment before a gentle murmuring started up.

Soon his people were throwing questions at him. Every single set of eyes stared at him with complete trust.

"Where is King Thranduil?" someone shouted above the noise.

"The King…the King is working with the healers to find a cure." Legolas didn't think it would be a good idea to tell the people that their king was in the same position as them. "Can the healers join me over here please?" Legolas called. The noise increased again, although the cries were calmer than before.

Legolas and the others moved out of the way a little so they wouldn't be overheard discussing this next difficult topic.

"That was very good," Elrond complimented, placing a hand firmly on Legolas' shoulder in reassurance and he was slightly surprised to find it trembling even though the young Elf was trying hard to disguise it.

Ignoring Elrond's comment – not wanting to be congratulated for what he had just said; blatantly lying to his people was not a good thing in his eyes – Legolas turned to the healers. "I know you have all been through a lot today but I need you to do one more thing for me." He hesitated for a moment, not wanting to speak the terrible words he knew he had to. "We need to remove the dead." His request was met with shocked silence and Elrond now understood why the prince had led him outside. No one else needed to hear this, it would only cause panic. "I know this is a grim task to ask of you but we need to make room for the new patients. Try and remove them without causing too much fuss – make out they are still alive so as not to alert anyone of your actions."

"What do we do with them, my Lord?" a reluctant, trembling voice asked.

At this question Legolas looked up at Elrond for guidance and was pleased when the healer offered it. "Take them outside. Burning the bodies is the only way to contain the disease, otherwise it might spread further."

Looks of horror and grief spread over the gathered healers and one or two of them began to cry onto their colleagues. Legolas could tell they had almost reached their limit. Some were also showing early signs of the illness whilst others just looked utterly resigned to the fate of their kingdom.

"I know what you are sacrificing being out amongst those people. I will not keep you here against your will. You may return to your families if you wish so long as you do not cross the borders of the kingdom."

There was an uneasy silence for a moment before someone spoke up. It was a relatively young female healer who looked absolutely horrified at the situation. "We stay with our prince, my Lord," she said quietly. Murmurs of agreement struck up through the group. Legolas nodded his thanks, unable to find the right words.

"Let's clear every spare room in Mirkwood and turn them into healing halls," Elrond instructed in Legolas' place. "Treat the children first. They have to be the priority."

"I'll go and organise the pyres and round up some people to help," Aragorn said, placing a hand on Legolas' shoulder and offering his friend a weak smile before walking off to do his duty.

"Let's also have some people get or make some more healing supplies. We're going to need all we can get a hold of," Elrond added.

"I'll do that," one of the healers said, breaking away from the group.

"Also, anyone who can walk needs to help with something. Treat as many people as you can as fast as you can. Your job is to keep them alive and as comfortable as possible until I find a cure. And make sure no one leaves the confines of the palace – we need to keep this contained at all costs."

Legolas listened intently just pleased someone else was taking charge even if only for a minute. After a few words of encouragement from Legolas the healers departed to face the grim task ahead of them.

The prince walked back into the main hall and rolled his sleeves up. "Legolas?" Elrond asked questioningly, following him.

"I may not be a healer, Elrond, but I will not sit back and let my people suffer through this alone." He picked up one of the dead bodies gently with the help of another healer who seemed equally surprised at his prince mucking in with the rest of them.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Aragorn and his volunteers had built a makeshift funeral pyre in the courtyard of the palace, upon which a hundred or so bodies were haphazardly placed. It was a pitiful sight, one that took Legolas' breath away. The prince, Aragorn and Elrond were now stood in front of the macabre structure. Legolas was holding a flaming torch in his hand ready to light it and the fire flickered slightly in the breeze. It was just starting to get dark and Mirkwood was eerily silent, as though everyone knew what was happening outside. Legolas had sent most people back inside for this, not wanting them to witness the gruesome sight although Legolas himself had insisted upon being there. He had been carrying these bodies all day and his muscles and heart ached from the task.

At last, he whispered "Please forgive me" in soft Elvish and lowered the flame to the oil-soaked wood. The fire instantly sprung up, setting the bodies alight a second later. All three recoiled in horror at what they were seeing, whilst the other healers and soldiers who remained in the courtyard turned to look at the smoke lapping at the dark sky, as if the souls of the dead were clawing desperately to reach the heavens. All bowed their heads and Legolas heard whispered prayers drifting on the air.

Staring at the flames, Legolas' eyes filled with tears but he couldn't bring himself to look away.

"Legolas, come away," Elrond whispered gently, not wanting to break the reverent hush of the night. He placed his hands on Legolas' shoulders and pulled him closed, whispering more firmly. "Come away now."

Elrond practically dragged Legolas away from the pyre and led him back into the palace. Elrond knew how hard this was on the young prince; these were his people, his friends.

"Legolas?" Aragorn asked gently, looking up into grief-stricken eyes. Legolas just shook his head and walked unsteadily away, using the wall for support. Aragorn went to go after him but Elrond grabbed his arm to stop him.

"Let him go. Give him a few minutes to pull himself together." Aragorn nodded slowly and sat down on a near-by chair. He covered his face with his hands, trying to wipe the tears from his eyes. "Estel, go and get some rest. We can manage here for a while without you."

"But Legolas…" the man went to protest.

"Don't worry, I'll go after him. Go on."

Aragorn stood and walked off towards the limited sleeping quarters. Elrond had kept some of them clear so the healers could get some rest if they needed it. Some refused to leave the Great Hall, standing up to Elrond with more force than his position usually allowed. It didn't help that many of them were beginning to get sick themselves.

TBC…

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~