Disclaimer: I own nothing Tolkien created.

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Mirkwood's Plague

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Thanks to everyone who has reviewed. Please let me know what you think so far.

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Chapter 14 ~ Thranduil's Last Breath

Legolas was deeply asleep, his shattered body taking the advantage of the rest while it had the chance. Dreams relentlessly haunted him though. Images of the broken and dying bodies of his friends and family rushed through his mind in sickeningly distorted visions of horror. Despite wanting to escape these nightmares, his exhausted body just would not allow it, demanding undisturbed rest.

A light shaking finally stirred him from his restless sleep. When he opened his eyes, sunlight almost blinded him and he wondered why no one had thought to close the shutters against the ridiculously bright light. Squinting, he looked up to see Elrond leaning over him. The Elven Lord smiled as Legolas stiffly sat up, a faint look of confusion on his pale face. He handed him a glass of water and the prince accepted it with shaking hands. When he handed the half-empty glass back to Elrond, Legolas smiled gratefully.

"What is it?" he asked, rubbing his hands over his tired eyes, wondering why on earth the Lord would disturb what little sleep he had been allowed to get.

"I'm sorry to disturb you but I thought you needed to see this."

Legolas sat up straighter at these words, sensing that Elrond had something important to tell him. "Did you find something?" he asked, suddenly very alert.

"Better. I know what the disease is."

Legolas was utterly shocked at this, exclaiming, "What?" It was everything he hoped for: an end to this horror.

"I was checking through your father's medical books, sparse as they are, and I came across a mention of our disease. Every other reference to the disease that affects has been vague and limited but this one is extremely detailed. All the drawings match the marks and symptoms on your brother's body. And the descriptions are all very clear. It's definitely the same illness."

"Are you sure?" Legolas asked in amazement. Elrond said nothing but handed him the big book instead. Legolas quickly scanned his eyes over the page, not understanding a great deal but trusting that Elrond knew what he was talking about. "This is wonderful news, right?"

Elrond's smile dropped and he turned serious. "There are still parts that are very vague."

"Such as? I mean, we can find the cure now."

Elrond sighed heavily, causing Legolas' heart to sink. "Although it details the disease it doesn't mention a specific cure."

"But you can still find one," Legolas said hopefully.

"The text speaks of the disease attacking another Elven community nearly a thousand years ago. Now, the healer writing it begins to speak of a possible remedy but his writings are abruptly cut off. He never actually mentions a specific cure but the fact that he doesn't write anything more suggests…"

"He died before he could finish it. There was no cure," Legolas finished quietly. Elrond nodded slowly. "But you have a reference now, something to go on."

"Yes, and I will keep trying. I have already given one possibility to Aragorn. He and Gimli are currently experimenting on a patient."

"Do you think it will work?"

"I honestly don't know," Elrond sighed. "But I'm going to keep trying anyway."

"Thank you Elrond. I'll go and give Aragorn a hand in the Great Hall."

"Legolas…"

"Don't, Elrond. There has to be a cure. There just has to be. I can't let my people die like this or there won't even be a Mirkwood anymore." Elrond nodded. "How is my father?"

"He was the same last time I checked. I left a healer with him. Should his condition change we'll be informed."

"I'm going to sit with him for a while. If you need me I'll be with him or in the Great Hall. Come get me if you find anything."

As Legolas left, Elrond looked around Thranduil's bedroom. He had never been in here before; few people but the royal family had. The room may have been warm and cosy before but now, with the fire burned out, the room was cold, the light from the windows offering no warmth or comfort at all – in fact, almost making it feel colder. The sheets and pillows on the bed were in disarray from where Legolas had been sleeping restlessly, obviously tossing and turning in his sleep but it was the spots of dark red blood on the crisp white pillow that caught Elrond's eye. He sighed sadly. Watching other people get sick was horrific but seeing Legolas going the same way was even worse.

Elrond and Thranduil were political allies – for the most part – and the same with Rumil but Legolas was more than that. He was a good friend and over the past few days Elrond found himself growing increasingly protective over the young prince. If only he could protect him from this.

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Legolas entered Thranduil's private healing room as quietly as he could. The king was, as expected, still lying in bed, sheets pulled up to his chest, his hands lying limply on the bed at his sides completely motionless. Legolas closed the door gently behind him and took a tentative step forward. He stopped when someone shouted out from the bathroom.

"You can't be in here. This is the King's private…" She stopped suddenly when she re-entered the room and saw Legolas watching her, a look of vague amusement on his face. "Prince Legolas," she stuttered, performing a nervous, guilty curtsey. "I am so sorry, Your Highness. I didn't know…"

Legolas held up his hand to stop her nervous apology. "It's alright."

The healer smiled apologetically and walked back over to Thranduil. She was carrying a bowl of water and wetted a cloth in it before placing it on Thranduil's hot forehead.

"How is he?" Legolas asked quietly, taking a step closer.

"I'm not really sure, Your Highness. He still has a fever but apart from that I don't know. Lord Elrond came by earlier and said there had been little change."

"I suppose that is good," Legolas murmured softly.

"I suppose," the healer repeated quietly, not quite knowing what else to say.

Staring at his father, Legolas was again swamped with the feeling of being totally alone. Thranduil just looked so…lifeless. A mere shadow of the person he had once been. It was hard to image the king as he had been just a few days before or how he ever would be again.

"Could you please…?" Legolas nodded to the door, indicating that the healer should leave.

She immediately got the hint and replaced the cloth in the bowl, which she had placed on the bedside table. Legolas went and stood next to his father, looking down at the pale face. The healer left silently, shooting Legolas a reassuring smile on her way out. For a moment, Legolas didn't know what to do.

After watching the slow, steady rising and falling of his father's chest for a moment he finally sat down on the chair by the side of the bed. He was completely lost as to what to do or say.

This particular problem was solved a second later when Thranduil stirred and his eyes opened slowly and painfully. For a while the king didn't seem to know where he was but when he turned his head he saw Legolas leaning forwards, waiting patiently for his father to reorient himself.

"Legolas?" Thranduil croaked.

"Here, Ada," Legolas offered Thranduil some water. Gently, he lifted his head off the pillow and carefully trickled water into Thranduil's mouth. Thranduil slowly drained half the glass before pulling back. Legolas replaced the glass and returned his gaze to his father.

Thranduil smiled weakly up at his son. "Legolas."

"It's alright, Ada. Don't…don't try to talk. It's alright." Thranduil smiled gently. "How do you feel?" Legolas laughed at his own question. "Sorry that was a stupid thing to ask."

"More importantly, how are you?" The look of concern that Legolas was so used to seeing from his father returned and it warmed his heart.

"I…I don't really know," Legolas sighed. He reached over and grabbed the cloth from the bowl of water, wrung it out and placed it tenderly on Thranduil's forehead.

"And Mirkwood?"

Legolas laughed humourlessly. "I don't know that either. Things are pretty bad though, Ada."

"This sickness is spreading, right?"

"Yes. Quickly."

"Elrond is helping you though?" Legolas nodded, leaning closer so he was resting his elbows on the bed, wanting to be close to his father. "You don't look well, ion nin," the King said softly, a frown creasing his face and Legolas just nodded again, not even attempting to deny it. "How many?"

"Ada…"

"Legolas, this is still my kingdom. I have the right to know. Now tell me, how many people?"

Legolas sighed, he didn't want to answer that but Thranduil did have the right to know and he had no choice but to tell the truth. "I'm not sure exactly. Last report Aragorn gave me: two hundred dead. More than two thirds of Mirkwood is sick – all in different stages of the disease."

"Two hundred dead?" Thranduil breathed in disbelief. He had been expecting half that number. "And Elrond, he is looking for a cure?"

"Yes. He has been dividing his time between the Great Hall and his makeshift laboratory."

"And he has found nothing?"

"He has been trying a few things. I don't know how successful they have been."

"You have everything under control then?" Thranduil asked tiredly, almost in relief. Legolas said nothing. "Legolas?" Again, nothing. Legolas had placed his head in his hands to hide his face from his father. "Ion nin?" Thranduil reached out to take his son's hand in his own cold, trembling one.

"I…there was nothing else I could do," Legolas almost whimpered, removing his head from his hands.

"What do you mean?" Thranduil questioned gently.

"There were so many of them and Elrond said that we didn't have another option."

"Legolas, slow down. What are you talking about?"

"Them. The…the dead people. We had to burn them all, Ada. Elrond said it was the only sure way of stopping the disease from spreading. But they were people I have known all my life, Ada, and I did that…How…?"

"Legolas, you didn't have a choice."

"But they were my friends. There were children as well. Little Elflings. And I keep seeing them. I keep seeing their faces through the flames. They are haunting me, Ada."

"No." Thranduil placed his hand on his son's face, which was wet with tears. "Oh, Legolas."

Legolas leaned forward until his head rested on Thranduil's chest. Thranduil gently stroked his son's golden hair, whispering reassurances.

"I think I'm going mad, Ada," Legolas said, his voice muffled through his tears and his father's nightshirt.

Thranduil laughed sadly. "Oh, my little Greenleaf. You're not going mad. You're just tired and unwell. You need to take better care of yourself, ion nin."

"That's what Elrond keeps saying," Legolas laughed quietly.

"Then you should listen to him. You know that I would have done exactly the same thing had I been in your position. I know you well enough to know that your instincts are usually right. Don't feel guilty about doing what is necessary."

There was a comfortable silence for a long while. Although he knew he should get up and go to the Great Hall as he had promised, Legolas was too just tired and was perfectly content to just lay there, being gently comforted by his father. However, after a while the hand stopped working through his hair but Legolas hardly noticed, he was already on the verge of peaceful sleep. When Thranduil's chest stopped moving though he sat up sharply, freezing for a moment, praying that Thranduil would suddenly take a deep breath. It didn't happen though. Legolas' heart sank, clenching in his chest almost painfully. It took all his will power to keep from falling to the floor. After a moment he finally regained enough sense to run to the door calling for help. Luckily, the healer who had been in the room earlier was waiting outside. It also helped that Elrond happened to be walking down the corridor at that exact moment. Both turned in shock when Legolas burst through the door, yelling for help. Elrond dashed forward at the same time as the healer ran for the door. They both raced over to Thranduil.

"He's not breathing," Legolas cried, his voice utterly distraught. "He's not breathing!"

Elrond frantically searched for a pulse and, finding nothing, started pumping on Thranduil's chest to get his heart going again whilst the healer breathed for the King. Legolas was unable to do anything but look helplessly on as Elrond and the healer worked on his dying father.

"Don't let him die. Please, please don't let him die, Elrond," Legolas begged pitifully, praying to the Valar as much as the Elven Lord. Elrond had never heard him speak with such despair and renewed his efforts to revive the king.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, but was in fact only a matter of minutes, Elrond felt a weak, thready pulse. He released the breath he had been holding at the same time as Thranduil drew in a shuddering breath. The Elven Lord turned to Legolas and said simply, "He's breathing."

"Thank the Valar," Legolas breathed out, relief flooding through him. The healer in the room walked over and wordlessly guided Legolas to sit down in the chair. He truly did look like he was about to fall over or pass out any second. Tears streamed down his face and his whole body slumped. "Thank you. Thank you." Elrond placed a gentle hand on the prince's trembling shoulder.

To Be Continued…

Ha, ha, you didn't honestly think I'd kill Thranduil, did you? Well, not yet anyway…Please review.

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Translations:

Ada – Dad

Ion nin – My son