Disclaimer: I own nothing Tolkien created.

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Mirkwood's Plague

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A/N: Ok, I wasn't going to update today as I have been sick most of the week but I dragged myself out of bed to get my laptop and here I am. I felt I couldn't let you all down, so here's chapter 11 for you. Hope you enjoy it and thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far.

Chapter 11 ~ Unexpected Casualties

Returning to the make-shift healing hall, Elrond was pleased to see that many of the patients had fallen into sleep despite their dreadful predicament. He looked over to one of the healers who was searching through a box of healing supplies, apparently displeased at the lack of resources. After getting a brief report from the healer about their state of supplies, Elrond slowly walked through the sick again. People were still being brought in and the hall was starting to get crowded again.

At least it was quieter now night had fallen. Although there were still ripples of panic and fear running through the patients there was no more screaming, just a gentle undertone of moans and coughs. It was almost eerie. Elrond decided he preferred the screaming.

"Lord Elrond," a healer approached. "For you, sir, compliments of the Hobbit chefs." A slight smile graced his features, which were covered in a fine sheen of sweat from fever. Elrond took the mug of herbal tea the healer offered and sipped at it gratefully, hoping it would help clear his tired mind.

"Thank you," he smiled, as he felt warmth seeping back into him. The healer just nodded with a thin smile. Elrond had seen him around the hall all day. He had had no rest since the first patients had come in and his exhaustion clearly showed on his face. "You should go and get some rest whilst it is reasonably quiet," Elrond suggested in hushed tones so he didn't disturb any of the sleeping patients.

The healer just smiled thinly. "Thank you for your concern, my Lord but I want to stay." Elrond was obviously waiting for him to elaborate on his desire to remain amidst the horrors so he continued, "My wife. She has not come in yet. I want to be here just in case."

Elrond nodded thoughtfully then motioned for the healer to follow him over to the triage section of the Great Hall, reserved for the walking wounded and the healer obediently followed. Placing his mug on the table, Elrond gestured for the healer to sit and actually pushed him down into the seat when he went to protest. He then rummaged through the supplies until he found a long bandage.

"That's not necessary, my Lord. I am fine," the healer protested but Elrond silently took the healer's hand in his own and began to place a bandage over the angry-looking blister that had formed as part of the disease. The stubborn healer flinched and hissed as the cool cloth touched the sensitive wound and he looked up into the ancient Lord's eyes, which were filled with anguish at the situation he found himself in.

Once Elrond had finished, the healer flexed his fingers carefully before looking at his Lord. "Thank you," he muttered quietly.

"Take it easy," Elrond instructed before picking up his tea and walked over to another servant who was trying to clean the blood off the stone floor. It was a grim image. This once great kingdom was being ravaged by something so deadly that it could potentially destroy the great realm completely. The Mirkwood Elves had lived in the shadow of Sauron's darkness for many long, painful years. The Dark Lord had finally been vanquished, evil was washing away from the world and then this happens. Elrond hated the thought that Mirkwood would soon become a kingdom filled with nothing but ghosts.

**

"My Lord," a healer entered Elrond's chambers where he had been resting for only a few hours. "My Lord, forgive me but you are needed in the Great Hall."

"What is it?" Elrond asked sleepily, sitting up and rubbing his hands over his tired face.

"It is one of the Hobbits, Lord Elrond…" He didn't even get a chance to finish before Elrond threw the sheets back and was out the door and running towards the Great Hall.

Frodo was lying unconscious on the floor, surrounded by the other three Hobbits and some very concerned healers. Elrond pushed them all out of the way and knelt down next to Frodo. He placed a hand on the Hobbit's forehead to find he had a high fever; just like the other sufferers.

"Frodo, can you hear me?" Elrond asked loudly but he got no response. The Halfling was out cold. "How long has he been like this?"

"He was fine a moment ago, and then he said he was feeling a little tired and he just fell over," Sam answered quickly, tears blurring his vision. "Is he going to be alright, Master Elrond?"

"I don't know yet, Sam. Let's get him to a more private room. We'll use Legolas' chambers. He's not using them at the moment and I'm sure he won't mind."

Carefully picking Frodo up, Elrond carried him out of the hall, allowing only one other healer to join him and ignoring the Hobbit's protests at being left behind.

When they reached the prince's rooms, Elrond laid the limp Hobbit down on the large four-poster bed, which made him look even smaller. The room, although being well furnished, was remarkably plain compared to Thranduil's own personal quarters anyway. Even Rumil's were better than this, not that decoration mattered that much. The only rooms in Mirkwood that contained en-suite bathrooms were the royal quarters and Elrond knew they were the best for healing purposes, seeing as every other place in the palace was being used as emergency healing rooms.

Elrond immediately began his examination of Frodo, swiftly undressing him. He was disheartened when he saw the bruise-like marks on his body – a sure sign of the disease that was afflicting the Elves of Mirkwood. Elrond sighed in resignation. He had been hoping there was another explanation but apparently the disease affected Hobbits as well.

"Go to Thranduil's healing room and ask Prince Legolas to come here immediately, please," Elrond instructed his healing assistant. "And do it quietly, don't make a fuss." The healer nodded her understanding and left to carry out her errand, pleased to at least be doing something useful.

Elrond was loath to wake the young prince but this was a development he would want to be aware of.

**

The healer knocked gently on the door to Thranduil's private healing room and, upon receiving no answer, stepped cautiously inside. What she saw stopped her in her tracks and made her heart melt in sympathy. Legolas was fast asleep next to his father with his arm wrapped gently around the king and his face buried into his neck. Such displays of public affection between father and son were rare in Mirkwood; a privilege few members of staff got to see.

The healer paused for only a second, knowing she had to complete her grave task. She cautiously approached the bed. Being a trainee healer she was not usually so close to the royals, although she had always admired them from afar, especially the two handsome princes.

Gently, she placed a slightly shaking, tentative hand on Legolas' shoulder. He was instantly awake and alert, although immediately looked over to the king, apparently thinking his father was the one to disturb his well earned, peaceful sleep. The healer suddenly felt guilty for waking her prince and startling him so she said nothing whilst Legolas reassured himself that it was not his father who had woken him and that the king was no worse off than when he had last seen him. Indeed, the king's condition had not changed. Realising that something else must have disturbed him Legolas turned around to face a terrified looking healer.

"What is it?" he asked croakily, his throat still sore and hoarse from his earlier sickness.

"Forgive me for waking you, Your Highness but the Hobbit…Elrond sent me to wake you. Something in the Great Hall…"

"Wait. Slow down. All I got from that was that Elrond's a Hobbit and in the Great Hall." She smiled her thanks for his weak joke making her feel better. "Now say it again slowly."

Taking a deep breath, she started again. "The Hobbit, Frodo, collapsed in the Great Hall and Lord Elrond sent me to bring you to him. It's urgent, Your Highness."

"That made a bit more sense," Legolas mumbled, drawing another small smile from the healer. Legolas dragged himself out of bed, glancing once again at his sleeping father.

He felt worse than he did before. His whole body was aching and cold and he felt like he hadn't slept at all. On his way out he grabbed a thick robe from the wardrobe and swung it over his shoulders before closing the door quietly behind him.

**

When he and the healer walked in to Legolas' own private quarters, Elrond was still looking over Frodo, examining the bruises on his body with steady hands. He looked up when Legolas entered. Concentration immediately turned to sympathy when he saw Legolas' face; it was pale and tired and Elrond instantly regretted waking him.

"Frodo?" Legolas asked, coming closer to the bed. "What happened?"

"He just collapsed. Legolas, he's showing all the symptoms," Elrond explained, pulling the blanket back over the unconscious Hobbit.

"I thought you said this only affected Elves."

"We don't really know anything about this disease."

"Then it also attacks other races," Legolas sighed, looking down at Frodo with sad eyes.

"I'm not so sure it does. Look at this." Elrond pulled aside the blankets to expose Frodo's old wound; the stab wound of the Morgul blade he had received at Weathertop during the Quest of the Ring. Thanks to Elrond's remarkable healing skills the wound had been healed. Previously, it had just been a white scar but now it was red and raw as though it were infected.

"I noticed it during my examination. The healers say that none of the other four Hobbits are suffering any symptoms at all. I think that somehow this wound allowed entry to the disease."

"I don't understand. The disease entered through an already healed wound?" Legolas asked, watching Elrond closely.

"These bruises," Elrond pointed, "suggest that the disease affects the blood. I think that somehow the disease was first transferred by blood coming into contact with blood," Elrond explained.

"That's how it passed to Frodo?"

Elrond nodded. "Frodo was in the Great Hall handing out food. I am sure that he, at some point, came into contact with one of the patients."

"So the Hobbits aren't susceptible?"

"No."

"Thank the Valar," Legolas sighed. "So this disease got into him through the blood?"

"Yes. I think it started out that way, maybe in the village. Then something happened; the disease mutated, it evolved and became able to transfer through the air. That's how it spread so quickly. First in the village, then Rumil came here bearing the disease and the diseased child. By this time it was airborne and spread throughout Mirkwood. Its evolution sped up at a phenomenal rate."

Legolas took a moment to process this. "So, this thing could only be transferred through blood and then it mutated and became airborne?"

"Exactly. It explains everything," Elrond said, the slightest hint of triumph in his voice.

"Are you any closer to finding a cure?" Legolas asked.

"No, but this is a major breakthrough. Now I know how it transfers I'll be able to do some experiments and hopefully find a cure."

"Good. Do you think he'll be alright?" Legolas asked, looking down at Frodo.

Elrond's face fell. "I don't know. I'll work on finding that cure."

"Right. I'll inform Aragorn and the other healers. And I'll isolate the other Hobbits just in case."

Elrond nodded. "That's a good idea. Better to be safe than sorry." Legolas nodded distractedly. "I'll go and figure out how to stop this thing."

"Thank you Elrond."

"But first I am going to look you over and check on your father."

"I'm fine, Elrond but you should check on Ada," Legolas said.

"I insist." Legolas merely nodded gently. "Good. Stay here and come and find me if his condition changes," Elrond instructed the healer.

**

Elrond gently looked over Legolas, who was sat in his father's chair behind the king's desk in the study. Almost every other room in the palace was being used for patients – Frodo was in Legolas' private chambers and Thranduil was in the royal healing halls.

Legolas sat completely passive and silent as Elrond examined him, already knowing what the outcome would be. He felt as bad as he had done before. Elrond, of course, knew this. His earlier reaction to the current crisis had said it all and the Lord of Imladris had seen enough of this sickness to know the signs.

The healer sighed as he leaned back after looking over Legolas' bruises. So far they hadn't spread too far but the signs were all there. The disease was progressing slowly in the prince but then it seemed to work differently in every patient. Thranduil had gotten sick and deteriorated very quickly yet some people were not even showing signs yet, Elrond included. Of course, he had no proof that it even affected everyone. So far Elrond had absolutely no symptoms and there were healers who had had constant exposure to the sick patients and yet remained unaffected.

"Well?" Legolas asked, breaking Elrond's dark thoughts.

"I think you already know the answer so I'm not going to lie to you."

"How far along is it?" Legolas asked calmly, looking down at the floor with sad eyes.

"It seems to be in its earliest stages. Besides the obvious symptoms you seem to be holding up remarkably well."

"That's some good news at least," the prince smiled thinly.

"Legolas…"

"I know, Elrond," the prince sighed.

"You should try and take things easy. Get plenty of rest." Elrond knew this was a pointless instruction. Legolas wasn't about to sit back and watch his people suffer alone.

"Elrond, please don't mention this to anyone. They need me to…"

"Of course. Although my advice still stands. They need you to be visible but they need you to be alive even more."

"Elrond, this thing is going to do the same thing to me whether I'm standing or lying down so I may as well do something useful in the meantime. I have never asked my people to do anything I myself am unwilling to do, and that's not going to change."

Elrond was silent for a moment as Legolas pulled on his tunic. Every muscle in his body ached and he could not stop the slight trembling that came with the fever that assailed his body.

"Alright, I should go and check on your father."

"Thank you. I will be in the Great Hall if you need me."

"Right. Legolas, let me know if you begin to feel worse or you develop any new symptoms."

Legolas merely nodded before standing slowly and leaving the room. Elrond looked at the door for a moment, gently shaking his head at the young prince's stubbornness; so much like his father.

TBC…

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Translations:

Ada - Dad