After a brief walk down the hall, Legolas and Thranduil found themselves in the bathing room.  Here Legolas stripped out of his blood soaked clothing and eased himself into the warm water.  Fragrant athelas leaves floated on the water's surface and Legolas breathed the scent in deeply, instantly relaxing.  He leaned back against the side of the tub and closed his eyes with his head hanging down into his chest, for he was tired from the fight and wanted to gather his strength back some.  Thranduil, sitting by in case his son should need him, took pity on him and picked up a soft cloth to cleanse the wounds that covered Legolas' neck and back.  At the light touch upon the base of his neck, Legolas opened his eyes and turned his head.  Behind him and to his right, he could see his father smiling.

"Let me help," said the king and Legolas pushed off of the side so that Thranduil could reach his wounds.

A silence fell between the father and son, with only the gentle lapping of the water in the tub breaking it.  Thranduil noted how Legolas tensed each time the washcloth came to rest upon his open wounds, though his son's expression never changed.  But he knew his son far too well, and nothing that the young prince could do could pass him unnoticed.  Now the king took extra care in handling the wounds, for it broke his heart to have to case Legolas any amount of pain, no matter how small or how unavoidable.

Soon the wounds were clean and Legolas used the cloth to gently cleanse the one that he bore across his chest.  It was beginning to heal, but in a few places it had reopened.  While he tended to this wound and washed his hair, Thranduil left the room and returned with new garments for his son to wear.  These were of a deep, royal purple with intricate patterns of leaves along the edging done in silver threading. 

These are the clothes that Legolas slipped into before Thranduil returned to help him back down the hall to his new room.  Here, Legolas climbed into bed and lay back into the soft pillows.

"Legolas?" came a voice from the doorway.

"Aragorn, come in.  How fare's Boromir?"

A smile passed over the Gondorian's lips.  "I knew you would be asking.  He is well and sleeping comfortably.  You were right when you said that the wound looked rather high.  Whichever orc delivered the blow did so rashly and caught him up by the shoulder, though I will say that it's a nasty looking wounded.  The blade must have had a serrated edge and been twisted as it went in."

At this, Legolas caught his breath.

Aragorn noticed his friend's discomfort and smiled reassuringly.  "Do not worry.  The wound itself is not deep and will heal before long, though I dare say that Boromir will carry a scar for the rest of his life."

"I shall have to apologize to him in the morning."

"Agologize?  No, I do not think he would have it.  He called it a battle scar, a badge of honor for having fought the good fight.  He says the same of the scars where the arrows pierced him that took his life on the Anduin's shores.  Now, you have had a trying night.  Get some rest, my friend."

Legolas nodded his head.  "If it is the healer's wishes, I will comply."

"It is."

"Goodnight Legolas."

With that, Aragorn turned and left the room, motioning for Thranduil to come with him.

Both Legolas and Boromir slept soundly and deeply that night and well into the next morning.  It was late morning when Legolas finally awoke.  He was alone in his room, which surprised him at first, for ever since he'd awoken from his fevered sleep that had marked the end of his battle with the living poison, someone had been in his room.  A mischievous glint came into his eye and he began to push the bed covers away.  He would stand and walk about the room, for laying on his back in bed all day was slowly turning him mad.  He managed to get into a sitting position and put his bare feet on the floor before he heard the sound of footsteps coming down the hall.  Quickly he got back into bed and covered up once more before the door opened.

In poked the head of Boromir.

"Boromir!" Legolas cried out, overjoyed to see the Gondorian up and about, for some sneaking suspicion had lingered in the back of his mind that Aragorn had told him that the man was doing well in order to placate him.

"I am glad that you are awake Legolas," he said, sitting down in a chair beside the bed.  "I wanted to talk to you."

"As did I," replied the elf.  "I am glad to see that you are doing well."

"It is just a flesh wound for the most part," the man said, glancing down briefly at the bandages surrounding his wound.  "It could have been a lot worse.  Which is why I wanted to speak with you, though I have but a minute before the wizard comes to check on you.  I wanted to thank you for last night, for saving me when that orc nearly took me by surprise."

"You do not need to thank me, my friend.  It is I that should thank you.  If you had not been in my room last night, I would not have survived the attack.  You saved my life, Boromir.  I would not be here now if it were not for you."

"I did only what I could do.  I was not going to abandon you to those foul creatures."

"Nor was I.  I do not abandon my friends."