AN: Before I start on this chapter I have to say a big thanks for the reviews I got for the last chapter. You have no idea how much it means to me. I can shake off a little self-doubt now and just get on with it.

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"I should rather like to get out of bed for a while. I have spent too long here and I feel quite revitalised." Elrond looked down at Legolas for a moment, taking in the soft blush that was beginning to brighten his cheeks once more. It was true he was very much better, the infection in his hands now all but gone and the wounds healed once more, but...

"Tell me the true reason and I shall consider it." There was a moment's uncertainty in his face, readable even without being able to see his eyes. Then he replied in a soft voice:

"Being trapped in here reminds me of the things that happened back there." Elrond nodded; he had suspected as much, but had needed the young elf to confirm it. He needed to start talking about those times, or he would never find peace.

"Will you tell me of it? It will help you rid it from your mind."

"Will you let me outside?" Elrond had to smile.

"We can talk of this in the courtyard; it will be quiet there, and private."

"I would like that."

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There followed a complicated dance as Elrond - not wanting to wake Elladan for he had only just convinced him to get some rest - helped Legolas into a loose-fitting robe and lifted him gently into his arms. Though the weight-holding frames had been taken from around his legs, the splints remained to keep the delicate bone from moving out of place as it fused. Luckily, his joints had - for the most part - avoided the damage that the bones had taken, and so the braces were simply long struts along the sides of his legs, held tight with leather bindings that encircled the limbs. Lifted, he was a bulky load to bear, but together they manoeuvred out into the courtyard and with the aid of Glorfindel - who had spotted their approach - got Legolas settled in one of the wooden benches with a footstool to keep his legs elevated. As Elrond settled in the seat himself and dismissed his Seneschal with thanks, he watched the younger elf's expressions. He knew that the manoeuvring had been painful for the injured party, who's body had been still and at rest for so long. His face was pale and breathing shallow as he attempted to settle the pain that his body shouted to his mind. He took one deep breath and, composing himself, began to speak of a matter he thought never to have to think of again.

"When I was tortured I would be hung by my wrists, or a rope around my chest, and often blindfold. When they were done they would leave me for hours on end until one of the minions thought to come and collect me and take me back to the cell. It was an effective way of demoralising me, for it showed me just how weak I was. The knots were hardly tight enough that I couldn't have escaped them if I were strong enough, but I could not take enough weight on my legs to lift out of them." He paused to regain his composure as he felt his breathing racing out of control. Elrond reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, but it was pushed away as he quickly continued. "Once I was left for so long I wondered if I had been forgotten completely. I was too weak to do anything but dream of an escape, but I felt I was regaining my strength slowly. Then Elrohir and Elladan charged through the door, as though they had run all the way from Rivendell to free me." A smile flitted across his face in memory of the hope that had surged through him, though he had long known it to be false. "They cut me down and I was too tired and in too much pain to notice the roughness of their skin or their manner. They told me of their escape plan and I passed into reverie without thought - so safe did I feel in their protection." The smile became a sneer as he thought over his own naïvety. "I woke on a bed with sheets cool on my wounds and they lay with me and I knew that it was foul trickery for their touch was not theirs." He took a breath as his determination began to waver. His voice was muted as he continued. "But I was not strong enough to get away... never strong enough. This happened many times over, so many times they tricked me before I began to give up hope. Often they would leave me in the bed and take off the blindfold so that I would see them for who they truly were. And I could do nothing."

"When my sons come to you in the bed, you doubt them."

"I had given up hope, to take it up again is a dangerous thing. I do not think I would survive finding that I had been tricked again."

"Then let us all be thankful that this is no trick." Elrond offered softly, unconsciously echoing his son's words from the day before.

"I feel I have betrayed them." His words were so quiet that Elrond strained to hear them, as though to speak them aloud could make them more of a reality. "I do not know how they can do more than pity me now. They cannot love me again."

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"Elladan." Legolas spoke softly as his lover settled himself in the chair beside his bed that evening.

"I am here." A strong hand gripped his shoulder.

"Talk to me, it is too quiet."

"It is very still outside, the wind has dropped and so the leaves do not stir. If we do not have a thunderstorm tonight, there will be one tomorrow." The older twin explained the unnatural quiet of the evening.

"I thought it impossible for bed weather to invade this realm."

"It is unusual, but not unheard of. Else nothing would grow, and it would be a most sad land for a wood-elf to visit." Legolas could hear the smile in his voice as he teased. Once he would have made a joke about there being little else to draw him into the realm save the greenery, but he could not find the heart. His fears were too strong.

"Now I think of it," He forced out, jolting himself from maudlin thoughts. "I remember a thunderstorm in an age when Aragorn was Estel, and much smaller; though no less commanding. He ran through the corridors shouting that battle was come, and we should seize arms."

"He had hold of a knife before anyone could stop him and was ready to go to war with the elements. He cannot have been more than five, the knife like a sword in his hands."

"It seems so long ago."

"Much has happened in those few years. Things move at men's pace now, and change so much faster."

"He is a King now, and all his future laid out before him."

"With dear Arwen at his side." The sadness in his tone was palpable.

"Why does this sadden you so?"

"Of course... you would not know." He sighed. "She has made the choice to sunder herself from elf-kind. She has taken on a mortal life and will live with Aragorn for the fullness of their years until they are done, and then they will die together - as she wished it to be."

"Then we must rejoice for them." Legolas offered softly. "For the future can only hold joy for them, until the end of their days." With hesitation, he lifted one hand and reached out, finding Elladan's face more by chance than accuracy and cradling his cheek to wipe away a silent tear with his thumb.

"I cannot wait to tell them of your recovery." Elladan recovered himself, sniffing a little and injecting his tone with enthusiasm. "We have kept it secret, and they still fear you are dead and beyond all help."

"You have not told them..." His tone was hesitant, confused. Were they ashamed of him? That would be worse than no longer having their love, for to be a burden to their house would drive them away and he still had hopes of keeping them nearby, even if he could no longer be theirs.

"You must understand why I made this decision, for I see in your face that you are offended. When we got you back you were more orc than elf. It was desperation that drove us to hide you away from the others, for I knew that they would not hesitate to kill an orc, and few would look far enough to recognise you. But still you shunned us all when conscious, though now we know why. We asked for Gandalf's help when he first visited after the war. He was aching with new-found power and was quick to accept the challenge. It drained him; we sat in the room watching him tire hour by hour. But we saw you change too. Scars healed before our eyes, your skin became white again, not sickly pale grey. Strange cat's eyes hid your own... I cannot wait to get this," A hand brushed along the blindfold, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear. "off you so that I might make sure they have changed back with all the other signs." He sighed, pushing away memories of that more disturbing change. "When, even after Gandalf's apparent success you refused to accept us, we were forced to contemplate never getting you back. For us this was worse than loosing you to Mandos' halls; this was failing you twice. We were given a chance to bring you back and could not. Elrohir became very ill and when Aragorn visited we told him it was the grief of loosing you. We could not stand to give others such pain, nor stand to feel their wrath for our failure. Since you're getting better now, I will leave it to you to decide who is told and when."

"Elladan, where is Elrohir? I have not seen him yet." His voice sounded strained. He had not missed the hitch in the older twin's voice when he mentioned the younger. "You said he fell ill. Where is he?"

"He is... wavering close to Mandos' Halls." Elladan replied, choked. "Grief has a strong hold on him, and none can rouse him enough to tell him of your recovery. We can only pray for him."

"You must take me to him!" Legolas cried out. "Why would you keep this from me? I love him as I love you, you must take me to him!"

"We could not risk a relapse, father said it was best if you did not know. And you are not well enough to go to him; you cannot stand, let alone walk."

"Then you must carry me."

"I must do nothing, this is foolish."

"Then I will get there on my own!" Roughly he pushed aside the blankets, swinging splinted legs to the side of the bed and unable to contain a hiss of pain.

"Stop this!" Elladan shouted. "You will undo all of Ada's healing." Legolas paused, wavering. He calmed himself, knowing that he would not be able to reach the room on his own. He wasn't even sure which room he was in.

"Please, Elladan. I could not stand to have him die without trying everything. At the very least I would be near by." Elladan lay a gentle kiss on his forehead, both of them relishing the closest contact they had had in many months.

"Come then, let us do this carefully."

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Elrohir's room was deathly quiet as Elladan stepped inside with his burden. Elrond slept in a chair on one side of the bed, Erestor looked up from the other as the door opened. There was a shocked double take from the house's advisor before he gave up his chair, letting Elladan place Legolas down and moving a stool alongside to rest his legs on. Taking one of Legolas' hands Elladan placed it on Elrohir's cheek.

"Wake him if you can Melethron. I beg of you. For nothing we have done has succeeded." Elladan's voice woke Elrond, both confused and overjoyed to see both in the room with him.

Elladan took Elrond aside to explain as Legolas explored a familiar face with hands that were no longer the same. Tears dampened the bandages about his eyes and, escaping, traced his cheeks as he found a clammy brow and closed eyes, and he had to make two attempts to wipe them away, the first time missing with ghost fingers. He leant over until he was in danger of over balancing with his legs raised as they were, and placed a hand on either side of Elrohir's face, brushing aside long strands of hair.

"Come back to us Melethron. There are two here that cannot survive without you." He whispered, choked in sadness that he was the cause of his love's condition. Elladan looked over, his own heart in his throat as he watched the two he loved most in the word, both suffering so. How terrible a turn the world can take with so small a change. Elrond placed a hand on his shoulder as silent tears began to trace his own face.

"One." The whispered reply was so quiet that it took all in the room a moment to believe that they had heard it.

"No, love. Two." Legolas' reply was stronger. "Listen to my voice. Do you not know me? I am a little changed, it is true, but I need you and love you still." Elladan took a seat on the edge of the bed opposite Legolas and laid his own hands on top of his.

Elrohir opened his eyes slowly, as though struggling against a weighty force.

"I feel I have slept for a month." He murmured, his eyes falling shut as he lost the battle.

"You wouldn't be far off, my brother, though you have a good record of sleeping when there's work to be done." Elladan teased through tears now pouring freely, with a completely different cause.

"How does Legolas fare? My heart is weighted still, has there been no change?"

"Aye, there has been change indeed if he might fall asleep at your bedside." Elladan laughed, for Legolas had indeed fallen asleep with his head on the bed, in what could not be a comfortable position. He had been awake for the longest time since his recovery, it was not surprising that he had been exhausted by events. This time Elrohir's eyes stayed open long enough to take in Legolas' pale face beside his own.

"Elbereth." He breathed. "Has he always been so beautiful?"

"Brother, I shall get jealous." Elladan teased, trying not to laugh at how Erestor was blushing. They had never been loud about their relationship around the noble house of Imladris, but now was no time for modesty. They had time to make up for.

"He cannot be comfortable like that, come, this bed is plenty big enough for the three of us." Elrohir shuffled across so that Elladan could shift Legolas into the bed. Preparing to get in himself on the other side of Legolas, Elladan was stopped by his father's hand on his shoulder. He looked back into a frowning face.

"Father, if you have a problem with us sharing a bed after all this time I suggest you go somewhere else." Elrond chuckled at his son's challenging glare.

"No, it is not that. Only that I wouldn't surround him so in sleep." He continued more seriously. "I fear he would not react well to waking so trapped."

"But it is how we have always slept." Elladan objected in a whining tone.

"Aye and maybe the orcs lay with him like that as well, have you considered that?" Elrond hissed, keeping his voice low so that Elrohir wouldn't hear. "He may be better, but he is not yet healed from his experiences. Give him a little time before acting as though nothing has changed."

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There was no thunderstorm that night, nor the day after. It seemed the energy of the skies simply dissipated. Dawning bright, the day held more hope for the family of the Peredhil than it had for some time.

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Lady Janelly - Let's hope that hope can get them through the trials to come. ;) s'not over yet.
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legolas lover - no fear in me stopping after that set of reviews.

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Split Persona - Thanks sooooooooooooooooo much for taking the trouble to write an email review. I was very worried I'd lost you back then. It means a huge amount to me that you're still reading. Orc bashing...? You'll have to wait see. Perhaps we'll get him back on his feet first? :P

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Deb - thanks for declaring yourself. :D You can come again ;)
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Blaise - Again, thanks. It's always so hard to know how a story's going down when the readership is silent. That's a good point actually... what DO you call them? Do they count as a menage-a-trois? ... hmmm...