I'm so glad that everyone is enjoying this fic still! I can't thank all of you enough for your kind reviews. It just makes my day when I read them, and it most certainly inspires me to write more.

Anyway, I'm sorry this update took so long but I wasn't happy with it and I ended up re-writing it twice. And you know what? I still don't like it much... Ah well, please enjoy nevertheless. Maybe I'll re-work and re-post it later, eh?

Landslide

By NekoMegami_chan

Nekomegami_chan@hotmail.com

            Leoglas faded in and out of awareness. His entire body ached, making his throughts difficult to focus. He knew he was moving, though not under his own power. Someone was talking and holding his hand too tightly for comfort.

            A harsh demand for him to survive, accompanied by a string of oaths in Westron dragged Legolas from his revrie. Thranduil, his father; he would know those curses anywhere. "I am awake Father. And I fully - intend to live..." Legolas forced the words past the pain that threatened to send him spiraling down into unconsciousness. "So ple-ase, be quiet!"

            Thranduil shut his mouth, suddenly at a loss for words. Across the stretcher Elrond smiled. Yet when Legolas twisted in another spasm of agony, his lips turned down and his forehead creased. Elrond quickened his pace and the litterbearers followed his lead.

            Regaining control of his failing body, Legolas had a sudden flash of memory. Elrohir! He had found him! His eyes snapped open, though he could see little for the thick darkness all around. "Elrohir!" Legolas coughed. "Where is he? Elrohir!"

            Elrond rushed to place a cool palm on Legolas' brow. "He is nearby and in Elladan's capable hands. He is resting, as you should be."

            Legolas subsided, his eyes sliding shut. Elrond never glossed over the truth and the young prince had long admired the healer's honesty in the face of adversity. If Elrohir was resting safely in his brother's care, than he could cease to worry.

* * *

            Thranduil wrenched his eyes away from his son's sleeping face and redirected them to the shadowy ground just ahead. He had seen Legolas injured before. Never to this extent. The sight shook him to the very core of his being. It rocked the long and dearly held illusions he had created. Illusions of his invinciblity and security in the immortality of elven lives.

            "I must appologise for my earlier behavior, Elrond."

            For a brief moment the Lord of the Last Homely House considered not accepting the sincere and contrite admission. Thranduil had raised a hand to his child and belittled him in front of his friends, family and servants. However, the kind soul that resided within the half-elf led him towards the path of forgiveness. "Apology accepted, Thranduil."

            The blonde king pondered the other elf's words, then tear-bright grey eyes met his. "Thank you," Thranduil whispered. "Thank you."

* * *

            The search party arrived at Rivendell while the night was yet young. Stable hands tended to the weary steeds and ushered the visiting warriors to their quarters. All around curious elves peeked their noses out of windows or stared blantantly down from their balconies to observe the rather noisy goings on of the newly arrived contingent.

            Elrond gave orders that Legolas be carried to the Healing House before approaching his own sons. He helped Elrohir to dismount and wrapped a supporting arm around the younger elf's slender waist. Elladan quickly joined them on the ground and sent the horse off to be pastured for the evening.

            "Elrohir, I must make haste to join Legolas. Go with your brother to the kitchens and let Elladan prepare you a plate of something and a cup of hot tea to warm you. I still see the frigid touch of grief upon you," the Lord of Imladris said, petting the dark head pressed into his shoulder.

            "Nay Father!" exclaimed Elrohir. "I must go to Legolas - he is in need of me!"

            "That is true, but you will be of little help to him in your current state," Elrond wisely pointed out.

            Unable to argue with the obvious truth, Elrohir swiftly changed tactics. "In any case, I do not trust either of you tonight. You claim all you wish of me is that I eat and regain some strength. But I dare not eat nor drink anything you give me. It is sure to be laced with a powerful sleeping potion!"

            "Ai, my son! You know me altogether too well," Elrond sighed, somehow managing to keep a straight face as he discreetly slipped a gauze pouch of herbs down the back of Elladan's tunic. "Very well. Rouse the cook if you will, but I do not want to hear her complaints tomorrow."

            Nodding absently Elrohir allowed himself to be passed back to Elladan once more. He would have liked to protest his handling, but he knew he was too weak to walk on his own. Elrohir caught Elrond's sleeve as his father passed. "You can make him well again, can't you?"

            Elrond found he could not meet his younger son's gaze. The hope, love and fear that shone there were almost too painful to bear. Elrohir's voice was that of the elfling he had been when Elrond's beloved wife had returned from her captivity with the orcs. The child had asked the same question those many years ago.

            "I shall do my very best!" Elrond vowed now, as then. He could only hope to be more successful this night.

* * *

            Legolas came around reluctantly. He was no longer being carried, or at least all motion had stopped. There was a burning sensation in his extremities that grew rapidly stronger. Fire raced along his limbs, searing his skin and making his blood boil in his veins. He was blind with pain. A horrible thought wedged itself into his mind - perhaps he was burning in the flames of his funeral pryre!

            Legolas cried out and struggled. A weight connected with his chest, pushing him back into liquid heat. He pushed back, blindly desperate. Yet his strength gave out quickly and it was not long before he resigned himself once more into the comforting darkness.

* * *

            Elrond sat back on his heels. The front of his robes were soaked and rapidly cooling. Legolas lay in a bronze tub filled with warm and blood tinted water. Athleas and other healing herbs floated around him, giving off a refreshing scent which invigorated all present.

            The heated bath had restored a touch of colour to the young warrior's face. It was still too pale for Elrond's liking, yet he dared not order the water be made hotter. The prince had fought the healer and servants as soon as he had been immersed. The long days of exposure to the biting cold of the winter-touched mountains and the wounds that covered his weakened body had made the gentle warmth agony for him.

            Erestor appeared in the doorway with an armload of fresh towels and a sleeping robe.  He set them aside for the servants to use, drawing the topmost towel from the pile and presenting it to Elrond. "You are quite wet, my lord."

            "What would I do without you Erestor?" Elrond sighed, dabbing at his front.

            "Sprout mildew, of course!" he replied mildly, knowing that Elrond would welcome a lighthearted response. When no quip was returned, Erestor spoke up again.

            "All will be well, the Valar willing," the raven haired advisor smiled encouragingly down at Elrond. He had always been able to anticipate his lord's every need. Seeing the healer's frown deepen, Erestor's elegant eyebrows pulled together over his long nose. When Elrond was this concerned no one on the house staff slept.

            One of the maids who had been helping to remove the blonde prince from the bath blushed upon seeing the handsome advisor's thoughtful expression and nearly dropped her charge. Legolas grunted and attempted to get his feet under him, pushing at the elves who held him though his resistance was short lived. Elrond shot the maid a disapproving glance and she promptly began to pat Legolas dry with one of the towels.

            "My lord," Erestor extended a graceful hand.

            Elrond allowed his friend to help him rise and followed Erestor into the next room. A bed was being prepared for Legolas' occupation and  Elrond's surgical suplies were already arranged on a table reserved for that purpose.

            "Where has Glorfindel gone off to?" Elrond asked as the semi-conscious prince was laid on the bed, the sleeping robe Erestor had brought hanging loosely about him.

            "He is seeing to the needs of our guests," Erestor replied succinctly.


            "Ever the diplomat. I can always count on him to make things run as smoothly as possible. What of Thranduil?"

            "I am here," the king interjected, heaving himself up from a chair at the far end of the infirmary. "I knew there was nothing I could do to help, so I removed myself. I would not become an obstruction, but I am at your service Lord Elrond."

            With a sigh, Elrond sat down at Legolas' bedside and prepared himself to enter a healer's trance. "Very well then. Shall we begin?"

* * *