Disclaimer: I own nothing Tolkien created.

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

Sold Into Ruin

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

Chapter 17 ~ Healing

Elrond slammed another book closed unnecessarily hard. Another waste of his time. It seemed that every time he thought he was getting close to finding something useful there would be something else to disprove his newly formed theory. Finding a cure had obviously been impossible for the chief healer in the other affected land he had been reading about and he was beginning to think that maybe there really wasn't a cure to be found. He was still determined to keep going though. He had to find something to help Mirkwood.

Impatience was starting to pulse frustratingly through him but he quickly checked himself. He couldn't afford to give into that right now. He had to remain cool and calm. For Legolas if nothing else. The young prince seemed to be slowly falling apart and without the presence of his father he needed someone to take the reins and guide him through this time. Elrond could do that. He would do that.

**

Aragorn kept his tight hold on Legolas as the sick Elf cried against him. This was the first time he had ever seen the prince like this but Aragorn had felt this coming for a long time. A person could only go through so much before he had to lean on someone else for support and Legolas had been through more than enough; his family, his people, his own pain.

Legolas' cries had died down but he still leaned against the man, his tear-stained face buried in Aragorn's tunic. His hands were no longer grasping at the man but he clearly still needed the close contact and comfort as he didn't move from his place. And Aragorn was more than happy to let Legolas lean on him; that was what he was there for. Legolas' earlier admissions had shaken Aragorn; he had never heard the prince speak openly about his troubles before. Usually, he was so quiet, withdrawn.

After a while, Legolas pulled back but Aragorn kept a comforting hand on his arm just in case he was needed. The prince sniffed and wiped his eyes, keeping them diverted from Estel who was watching him closely.

"I'm sorry," Legolas said, pulling his hair out of his face. His voice still wavered but it no longer had the hysteric quality Aragorn had heard earlier.

"Please don't be," Aragorn whispered, giving his friend's arm a reassuring squeeze.

Legolas just whispered again, "I'm so sorry."

Reaching forward, Aragorn lifted the prince's chin so he could look directly into his eyes. "You don't ever have to apologise to me. Ever. Do you understand?" he said almost fiercely, bordering on angry that Legolas considered needing a shoulder to cry on cause to apologise.

Legolas sighed and leaned back in the soft chair, exhausted. "Thank you, my friend." Aragorn just smiled and carefully rearranged the ruffled blanket over the prince to make him more comfortable. He then dragged his own chair over to Legolas' so he could remain close.

"Try and get some rest now, Legolas," the man advised but noticed Legolas hesitate. "Don't worry, I'll take of Thranduil and wake you if anything happens. You need to sleep, even if only for a while. Would you like me to give you something to help?"

Legolas shook his head. "No, I want to remain relatively alert. Just in case." Aragorn nodded in understanding. "Estel, could you please stay close? I…I don't want to be alone."

"Of course I will," Estel assured, sensing the Elf's concern and fear. "Don't worry. Now, go to sleep."

As Legolas' eyes slipped closed he reached for Aragorn's hand. The man took it, of course, although he was surprised at the gesture. However, anything to allow Legolas to get some rest. Once he was sure Legolas was asleep Aragorn turned his gaze back to the king and couldn't help thinking that he was in the best position to be in right then – unconscious and completely unaware of what was going on in Mirkwood. He almost envied the king.

*~*

In the Great Hall Gimli had taken over from Aragorn in the triage section although he had absolutely no medical training. Given that this was an exceptional circumstance it didn't really matter. More of the healers were getting sick and they needed all the help they could get. Besides anyone could put on a bandage at a push. Seeing what they were really up against brought fear to Gimli's heart. Not for himself. Elrond was pretty sure that it didn't affect other species – Frodo was the exception. He was dreadfully afraid for Legolas though. The Elf was obviously unwell. Gimli didn't like seeing his normally fun and optimistic friend so low and afraid.

Another infected Elf approached him, just one in a long line of the sick and dying. After looking him over and spotting the obvious symptoms of the disease Gimli led the Elf to another Elven healer who led him to a makeshift bed amongst all the others. Just another of a growing number of people they couldn't help. It was a depressing fact but one that couldn't be avoided. It was hard for Gimli to accept and he didn't know any of these people; for Legolas it must have been excruciating.

"How is everything?" Elrond's strong voice came from behind Gimli, startling him.

"Don't do that!" Gimli yelled, causing a smile to cross the face of the wise Elf.

"Jumpy, Gimli?"

"Of course not. I just don't like Elves sneaking up on me, that's all."

"Any improvements? Any changes?" Elrond rephrased the question.

Gimli shot him another glare before answering. "Nothing of note. More people. More deaths. We're running out of beds again."

"In a way that's good. It means less people are dying."

"But it also means more people are getting sick."

"It also means a lack of supplies," Elrond mused.

After a moment's silence Gimli spoke again, "Have you had any luck in finding a cure?"

"Some. It's complicated though. I've found a few references but nothing that will help find a cure. It's a start at least. I had better get back." With that Elrond walked away leaving Gimli standing amongst the many patients waiting for attention from someone who could help.

*~*

"Lord Elrond," a voice came from the side of Elrond, who had been walking the corridors deep in thought. He was stopped by Sam's small voice. The Hobbit successfully caught Elrond's attention and he turned to face the Halfling, who was stood in the doorway of Legolas' rooms, where Frodo was still lying unconscious. In truth Elrond had almost forgotten about the Hobbit, being too preoccupied with finding a cure.

"Sam. I thought Legolas ordered you all to stay in your rooms."

"I…we…"

"Relax, I won't tell him. Is something wrong? How is Frodo?" Elrond stepped into the room, glancing to the bed where Frodo remained lying with Merry and Pippin sat by his side in a constant vigil.

"He just lies there," Pippin said softly.

Elrond checked the Hobbit's fever and looked him over before announcing, "His condition hasn't improved but neither has it worsened."

"What should we do?" Merry asked quietly, as though not wanting to break the tense atmosphere.

"There is nothing you can do but sit with him and hope he recovers."

There was a tense silence before Sam thankfully broke it. "How is everything else?"

Elrond hesitated in answering the Hobbit's question, not wanting to further upset him. However, they did deserve to know the truth seeing as they were stuck right in the middle of this crisis. "Getting worse," he said simply. On seeing their disappointed faces he added, "But I am a little close to finding a cure. Don't worry Sam, everyone is doing their very best to work this out."

"I know, Master Elrond," Sam smiled falsely.

"And Legolas? How is he?" Pippin asked, remembering seeing his Elven friend in such a state earlier.

Again, Elrond hesitated. He didn't honestly know how Legolas really was. "He is also infected by this disease," he answered truthfully. The Hobbits all looked shocked at this, the words from the great healer of Rivendell confirming their suspicions but doing nothing to alleviate their concerns. "But Aragorn is with him." Noticing their increased sadness, Elrond smiled and placed his hand on Sam's shoulder. "Don't worry about Legolas, young Halflings. He is strong. He will be well again."

They all nodded even though they didn't completely believe him. "We should let you get back then," Merry said softly. Elrond nodded before walking to the door and, after glancing once more at the Hobbits, he left the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

*~*

Back in the only patient-free healing room in Mirkwood, Elrond returned to his books. Physical progress only came once mental progress had been achieved and he couldn't do anything until he understood what he was…Slamming the book violently closed, Elrond sighed heavily in frustration. Reading wouldn't help anymore. They didn't have the time. By the time he had read through all the books, Mirkwood would be deserted. This wasn't the time to be following the rules of healing. He needed to do something pro-active.

Walking over to Rumil's body, Elrond pulled the sheet back, looking sadly at the prince's pale face for a moment. It only took a moment for him to recover enough from his grief, knowing he simply didn't have the time to indulge in his emotions right then.

He wasn't looking forward to his next task but he had no other choice. Elrond picked up the knife on his desk and placed it against the cold flesh. Before he made any cut he pulled back. Walking quickly over to the door, he locked it firmly. He didn't want Legolas or anyone else walking in on this. Going back to the body once more Elrond placed the knife against Rumil's chest, pushed down and pulled the sharp blade down his torso.

To Be Continued…

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

Yep, that's right, folks. Elrond's finally performing an autopsy. Please review.